THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 

Prom  the  collection  of 
Julius  Doerner,  Chicago 
Purchased,  1918. 

3// 

'£39 's/? 


' 


fiekft  f^lo^0'oiT|gl. 


POEMS, 


MRS.  MARY  E.  RICHARDSON. 

t * * 


MEMPHIS: 

BOYLE  & CHAPMAN,  PUBLISHERS. 
1874. 


^ (.  I S /"  ^ HH  ; 


•S'  1 I . 

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I 

// 

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TO 


Pi)  (Eljilbren  nub  (!kanb=®l)Ubrcn, 

THE  SOLACE  AND  COMPANIONS  OF  MY  DECLINING  YEARS , 

kittle 


IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED. 


692388 


CONTENTS 


Page. 

Spake  Moments, 9 

The  Old  Homestead, 11 

The  Mercenary  Bride, 14 

To  the  Memory  of  My  Husband, 16 

The  Exile’s  Adieu, 18 

My  Brother’s  Grate, 21 

The  Lock  of  Hair, 23 

To  My  Sons, 25 

Speak  Gently, 27 

My  Heart  Blossoms, 29 

The  Bride’s  Farewell, 31 

The  Mosquito, 33 

To  Fannie, 35 

To  My  Adopted  Daughter, 37 

The  Battle  Field  at  Night, 39 

To  Mrs.  Bronson  Bayliss, 41 

The  Light’s  Come  Out,  Mamma, 44 

A Description  of  Miss  May  Johnston,  while  Reading 
her  Graduating  Essay , Valedictory  Address , and  Receiving 
the  Last  Honors  of  St.  Agnes  Academy , June  18 th,  1874,  47 

The  Pearl  of  Faith, „ 50 

To  the  Memory  of  Little  Jennie  Moore,  ....  52 

The  Rainbow, 54 

To  Mollie, 56 

Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee, 58 

To  May, 60 

The  Sleeping  Infant, 62 

Sad  Memories, 63 

To  Florence, 65 

The  Poor  Rich  in  Faith, 67 

The  Lonely  Maiden,  69 

The  Pilgrim, 71 

Thy  Mother, 73 

Look  to  Christ, 76 


6 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

To  My  Sister, 78 

A Thought  of  Home, 80 

To  Jennie, 82 

Twilight, 84 

In  Memory  of  Mattie  Avent, * . 86 

Sacred  Thoughts, 88 

My  Mountain  Home, 90 

In  Memory  of  Samuel  Todd, 92 

To  my  Grand-Daughter,  Annie  R., 94 

Alone, 96 

Our  Fallen  Banner,  99 

A Spring  Morning, 101 

To  the  Memory  of  General  R.  V.  R., 103 

The  Withered  Boquet, 105 

Elmwood, 107 

Jimmie’s  Soliloquy, 110 

To  My  Two  Grand-Children, 113 

Mattie  to  Anna, 115 

Things  I Loye, 119 

The  Cloud  Rifts, 122 

Orphans,  124 

To  Blanche  A., 126 

To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ball,  of  Long  Island,  . . . .128 

To  Leila  M., 131 

The  Silyer  Lining — To  Mrs.  E.  B.  Carroll , ....  133 

Christmas  Bells, 136 

The  Child’s  Dream, 138 

October, 142 

To  a Bereayed  Mother, 144 

The  Hew  Year’s  Gift — To  Cecelia , 147 

I Loye  to  Dream, 151 

Distant  Scenes  by  Twilight, 154 

Whisperings  of  the  Night, 156 

The  Morning  Glory, 159 

Think  of  Me,  Lizzie,  . 161 

The  Night  Winds, 163 


<TT?  ""  — {$> 


SPARE  MOMENTS. 

1 

SPARE  moments,  spare  moments,  the  gold 
dust  of  time, 

When  mingled  with  wisdom  how  softly  they 
chime ; 

Spare  moments,  if  carefully  always  employ’d, 
Are  beautiful  heart-blossoms,  daily  enjoy’d. 

Spare  moments,  they  come,  when  the  sun’s 
ling’ ring  rays 

Have  hush’d  the  wild  music,  and  still’d  are  its 
lays ; 

They  come,  ’mid  the  soft-whispering  breezes  of 
night, 

And  fall  on  the  soul  like  a halo  of  light. 

2 


IO 


SPARE  MOMENTS. 


Spare  moments,  they  come,  at  the  first  blush  of 
morn, 

They  come,  when  the  dewdrops  are  fresh  on 
the  lawn; 

They  come,  when  at  noon-time  we  seek  the  soft 
shade, 

Where  wild  flowers  bloom  upon  mountain  and 
glade. 

They  come,  when  the  tempest  of  battle  is  o’er, 

And  hush’d  is  the  sound  of  the  deep  cannon’s 
roar; 

They  come,  to  the  lone,  weary  watcher  at  night, 

Who  weeps  o’er  the  dying,  when  still  is  the 
fight. 

But  alas  ! spare  moments  come  not  to  the  poor, 

Who  toil  through  the  day,  but  their  work  is 
not  o’er ; 

But  they  come  to  the  soul  when  life’s  labors  end, 

And  with  Love,  Home,  and  Heaven,  eternally 
blend ! 


THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 


THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 

THE  dear  old  homestead,  O,  how  chang’d, 
Since  childhood’s  early,  happy  morn  ; 
Where  are  the  friends  who  stroll’d  with  me, 
Out  on  the  cool  and  pleasant  lawn  ? 

One  by  one  those  friends  have  stray’d, 

And  here  I stand,  almost  alone ; 

The  trees  look  green  and  beautiful, 

As  if  to  time  and  care  unknown. 

Grand  old  trees!  your  shady  bowers, 

Invite  me  still  to  linger  near; 

But  painful  thoughts  across  my  mind 
Rush  vividly,  that  once  were  dear. 

The  garden,  then  my  anxious  care, 

Is  cover’d  o’er  with  grasses  wild  ; 

My  trellis’d  vines,  now  in  decay, 

I lov’d  when  but  a merry  child. 


2 


THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 


The  river  still  flows  peacefully, 

That  on  its  tranquil  bosom  bore 

The  little  boat,  in  which  I sail’d 

With  loving  friends,  in  days  of  yore 

But  ah ! the  friends  that  gather’d  here 
Have  found  in  other  lands  a home ; 

Not  one  is  near  my  grief  to  share, 

But  all  in  distant  countries  roam. 

The  dear  old  home  itself  is  gone ; 

My  room,  that  near  the  garden  stood, 

All,  all  is  now  consum’d  by  flames, 

All,  save  the  dark  and  lone  wildwood. 

The  little  stream  is  still  the  same 

That  softly  murmur’d  round  the  farm, 

Till  met  by  other  waters  bold — 

The  Stony  Fork — lends  a new  charm. 

Dark,  deep  and  swift  its  waters  flow’d, 
When  oft  by  rains  and  rills  supplied ; 

While  round  the  eastern,  rocky  bend, 

Its  angry  waves  our  skiff  defied. 


THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 


Roll  on ! ye  foaming  torrents  roll, 

No  more  they’ll  hear  your  angry  roar ; 

No  more  upon  your  bosom  borne 
Will  be  the  friends  I lov’d  of  yore ! 

Another  sacred  spot,  adieu  ! 

The  rugged  cliff  beside  the  brook, 

Where  oft  I’ve  sat,  ’mid  shady  dells, 

Alone  and  pensive,  with  my  book. 

No  longer  dear  to  me  those  scenes 
Where  first  I felt  the  blush  of  love ; 

That  far-off  sigh  of  years  long  gone, 

It  wafts  my  soul  to  One  above. 

Then  farewell  river,  cliffs,  ravines, 

My  youthful  dream  of  life  is  gone; 

Yes,  faded  in  oblivion’s  past, 

The  shadow’d  dream  of  life’s  bright  morn ! 


14 


THE  MERCENARY  BRIDE. 


THE  MERCENARY  BRIDE. 
BEAUTIFUL  young  girl,  the  father’s 


pride, 

Now  stands  at  the  altar,  the  old  man’s  bride; 

A joyless  victim,  she  stands  there  in  dread, 
That  peerless  young  bride,  but  lifts  not  her  head. 

’T  was  the  old  man’s  gold  that  bought  the  fair 


Who  coldly  stands  there,  her  heart  almost  wild; 
And  now  she  solemnly  takes  a sad  vow, 

As  calmly  before  the  altar  they  bow. 

The  father  has  sold  his  innocent  child  ; 

She  loves  not  the  groom  who  stands  by  her  side ; 
How  can  she  with  love  and  tenderness  cling 
To  the  feeble  old  man?  that  palsied  thing! 

The  conscience-stricken  father  now  draws  near, 
And  with  grief  beholds  one  tremulous  tear  ; 


child 


THE  MERCENARY  BRIDE. 


15 


Alas ! when  it  is  too  late , he  repents, 

• But  the  sorrowing  bride  never  resents. 

Why  did  I wed  my  sweet  bud  to  that  stem  ? 
The  wither’d  old  man  has  stolen  my  gem  ; 
Alone  I must  live,  with  none  to  console, 

I have  sold  my  daughter  for  the  old  man’s  gold. 

Oh!  what  do  I care  for  the  shining  stuff, 

My  child  is  gone — I have  more  than  enough; 
’Tis  shameful  and  vile  my  dear  one  to  wed, 

To  tie  her  young  life  to  a vine  that  is  dead ! 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  HUSBAND. 


16 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  HUSBAND. 

FOND  mem’ry  lingers  round  thee  still 
At  twilight’s  tranquil  hour, 

And  oft  when  other  hearts  are  light, 

I seek  our  lonely  bower. 

There  we  have  sat  in  converse  sweet, 
Amid  the  dews  of  even  : 

And  heeded  not  the  time  that  fled, 

So  much  was  earth  like  Heaven. 

Those  days  are  past,  those  joyous  days, 
Like  sweet  and  pleasant  songs  ; 

But  mem’ry  brings  them  back  again, 

And  still  my  grief  prolongs. 

The  happy  dream  of  youth  is  past, 

Its  early  joys  have  fled — 

Its  brightest,  fondest  hopes  are  crush’d, 
And  buried  with  the  dead. 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  HUSBAND. 


17 


The  whisp’ring  breezes  speak  of  thee, 
And  gently  rippling  stream  ; 

In  dreams  I see  thy  placid  eyes — 

On  me  they  fondly  beam. 

It  soothes  my  soul  in  balmy  sleep 
To  have  thee  often  near, 

Tho’  waking  breaks  the  phantom  spell 
And  leaves  my  heart  more  drear. 


8 


THE  EXILE’S  ADIEU. 


THE  EXILE’S  ADIEU. 

ADIEU,  sweet  friends  and  home,  adieu! 

I go  in  distant  lands  to  dwell ; 

But  oft  will  thoughts  revert  to  you 
And  to  the  scenes  I love  so  well. 

A stranger’s  land  shall  be  my  home, 

Far,  far  away  from  those  I love; 

O’er  foreign  hills  and  vales  I’ll  roam, 

As  joyless  as  the  lonely  dove. 

The  sun  may  shine  as  brightly  there 
As  on  my  own  dear  forest  hills, 

There  all  as  calm  a face  may  wear 
As  softly  flowing  summer  rills  ; 

And  friends  may  be  as  kind  as  those 
From  whom  I soon  shall  sadly  part — 

But  like  the  blasted  summer  rose, 

I’ll  ever  wear  a blighted  heart ! 


THE  EXILE’S  ADIEU. 


19 


The  music  there  may  be  as  sweet 
As  that  sung  in  my  native  land, 

And  warbled  forth  in  strains  that  greet 
Each  passer  of  their  happy  band. 

Alas  for  me  ! their  joyous  tones 

Will  have  no  art  to  please  or  cheer, 

But  from  my  heart  sad  tears  and  groans 
Will  then  burst  forth  for  those  most  dear ! 

The  matin  bells  at  Sabbath  morn 

May  ring  as  clear,  and  sweetly  sound, 
And  cheerful  hearts  may  rise  at  dawn 
To  greet  the  notes  that  echo  round ; 

But  though  the  hymn  is  chanted  round 
And  sweetly  accents  on  the  ear, 

The  dulcet  strains  and  joyful  sound 
Will  only  make  my  heart  more  drear ! 

For  then  sweet  thoughts  of  friends  and 
home 

Will  gather  thickly  round  my  soul, 

And  swiftly  from  my  heart  of  gloom 
Flow  bitter  tears  without  control. 


20 


THE  EXILE  S ADIEU. 


But  though  the  trackless  deep  may  flow 
Between  all  earthly  friends  and  me, 

There  is  a joy,  sweet  joy,  to  know 

Those  friends  in  Heaven  will  shortly  be !' 

And  though  the  briny  tears  fall  fast, 

These  thoughts  will  calm  my  troubled  breast. 
Take  from  my  heart  deep  sorrow’s  cast, 

And  gently  lull  my  soul  to  rest. 

Should  storms  and  bleak  winds  rudely  blow,.  - 
Should  I a child  of  sorrow  be, 

There  is  a joy,  sweet  joy,  to  know 

Those  friends  in  Heaven  at  last  I’ll  see. 


MV  brother’s  grave. 


2 I 


MY  BROTHER’S  GRAVE. 

BROTHER,  thou  art  called  from  earth, 
The  quiet  grave  is  now  thy  bed  ; 

No  more  we  hear  thy  tones  of  mirth, 

Thou  sleepest  with  the  silent  dead  ! 

No  more  we  see  thy  sparkling  eye, 

Nor  view  again  thy  lovely  face; 

Here,  underneath  this  sod,  you  lie, 
Hallowed  be  thy  resting  place. 

This  tree  droops  o’er  thy  lonely  urn, 

Its  branches  wave  above  thy  head, 

Its  leaves  in  sorrow  meekly  turn, 

Then  rest,  above  thy  peaceful  bed. 

Brother,  thou  wast  called  away 

E’er  sin  had  stained  thy  spotless  brow ; 
Thy  form  now  rests  with  kindred  clay, 

Thy  spirit  dwells  with  Jesus  now. 


22 


MY  BROTHER  S GRAVE. 


Torn  from  us  by  a wat’ry  grave, 

We  mourned  thy  fate,  dear  brother ; 
But  you  a golden  crown  shall  wave  ; 

Rest,  rest,  in  Heaven,  with  mother  ! 

Thy  sainted  spirit  roams  on  high, 

Bright  angels  thy  companions  are, 
Away  above  the  deep  blue  sky 

Thou  dwellest  in  heav’nly  mansions  far 

Though  parted,  we  shall  meet  again, 

On  Heaven’s  blissful,  happy  shore  ; 
Together  on  that  sunny  plain 

We’ll  dwell  in  joy  and  part  no  more. 


THE  LOCK  OF  HAIR. 


23 


THE  LOCK  OF  HAIR. 

STOR’D  away  with  treasures  rare 
For  sixteen  years  I’ve  kept, 
One  little  lock  of  flaxen  hair, 

O’er  which  I’ve  often  wept. 

My  daily  task  it  was  to  dress 
This  silken  lock  of  hair  ; 

More  sacred  now  to  me  this  tress 
Than  sparkling  diamonds  rare. 

I prize  this  simple  lock  of  hair 
So  careful  laid  away, 

More  highly  than  the  sun’s  last  glare 
That  crowns  the  closing  day. 

And  when  I look  upon  this  tress 
Of  softly  curling  hair, 

I think  of  him,  his  fond  caress, 

And  dimpled  cheek  so  fair. 


24 


THE  LOCK  OF  HAIR. 


Dear  little  tress,  once  more  I look, 
While  teardrops  silent  flow — 

Then  safe  within  this  secret  nook 
My  sacred  treasure,  go. 

’T  is  but  a little  thing  to  wake 
Sad  mem’ries  long  since  dead, 

But  little  objects  often  make 
The  miseries  we  dread. 

’T  is  all  that’s  left  of  him  so  dear, 
Who  was  our  tender  care — 

’T  is  all  that ’s  left  our  hearts  to  cheer, 
This  tiny  lock  of  hair. 


'TO  MV  SONS. 


25 


TO  MY  SONS. 


DEPRIVED  by  death  in  life’s  bright 
morn 

Of  a father’s  watchful  care, 

Together  bound  by  sacred  ties, 

One  common  fate  they  share  ; 

Though  stern  misfortune  often  frowns 
And  hurls  her  threat’ning  darts, 
Industriously  they  labor  on 

With  willing  hands  and  hearts. 


No  hero  on  the  battle  field, 
Fighting  for  conquest  dear, 
E’er  struggled  with  more  energy 
His  comrades  brave  to  cheer; 
And  often  in  my  darkest  hours, 
With  no  one  to  console, 

I pray  to  God  most  fervently 
Their  life-barques  to  control. 

n 

J 


25 


TO  MY  SONS. 


And  ever  I am  proud  of  them, 

My  noble,  gen’rous  boys; 

Around  their  true  and  loving  hearts 
Are  cluster’d  all  my  joys. 

Only  two  sons  I now  have  left, 

They  are  my  jewels  rare  ; 

And  with  them  blend  my  fondest  hopes, 
A mother’s  anxious  care. 

Four  years  I’ve  look’d  to  them  each  day 
For  a protecting  care  ; 

While  idle  youths  engaged  in  fun, 

My  darlings  were  not  there. 

Fond  brothers,  they  have  ever  lov’d. 
Joined  by  affections  strong  ; 

With  wives  and  children  joyously. 

Their  useful  lives  prolong. 


SPEAK  GENTLY. 


2 7 


SPEAK  GENTLY. 

SPEAK  gently  to  thy  mother,  boy, 
Pier  lonely  bosom  cheer  ; 

Kind  words  will  thrill  her  soul  with  joy. 
And  quell  the  rising  tear. 

Speak  gently  to  thy  father,  boy, 

Pie  needs  kind  words  from  thee; 

’T  will  help  to  fill  his  cup  of  joy 
’Pon  life’s  dark,  surging  sea. 

Speak  gently  to  thy  sister,  boy, 

Mild  as  the  harmless  dove — 

Though  often  timid,  shy,  and  coy, 

Her  heart ’s  a well  of  love. 

Speak  gently  to  thy  brother,  boy, 

That  bounding  lad,  so  brave  ; 

His  mind  is  not  a gilded  toy, 

Light  as  the  ocean  wave. 


SPEAK  GENTLY. 


Speak  gently  to  the  humble  poor, 

They  have  much  here  to  bear; 

Share  with  them  your  bounteous  store, 
And  lighten  up  their  care. 

Speak  gently  to  the  aged  one, 

The  vet’ran  soldier  drear; 

Life’s  battles  o’er— the  conquest  won — 
He  lives  on  mem’ries  dear. 

Speak  gently  to  the  stranger,  lone, 

“An  angel  in  disguise;” 

Let  no  rude  word  or  angry  tone, 

Cause  the  sad  tear  to  rise: 

A wand’rer  from  his  native  land, 

Away  from  friends  and  home — 

Extend  to  him  a kindly  hand, 

And  bid  him  no  more  roam. 


MY  HEART  BLOSSOMS. 


29 


MY  HEART  BLOSSOMS. 

THREE  jewels,  bright  and  beautiful, 
Adorn’d  our  happy  home : 

One  lovely  bloom,  our  sweetest  bud, 
Now  sleeps  beneath  the  loam. 

An  angel  came  with  noiseless  tread. 
And  on  his  bosom  bore 
My  little  boy  with  sunny  smiles, 

Who  play’d  beside  the  door. 

How  dark  and  drear  my  home  to  me. 
Without  his  fond  caress; 

A mother’s  anguish — who  can  tell  ? 

Who  paint  her  heart  distress? 

His  last  sweet  words — they  echo  still 
Around  my  heart  so  lone ; 

His  last  fond  kiss,  the  last  farewell. 

His  last,  sad,  dying  moan! 


30 


MY  HEART  BLOSSOMS. 


Many  years  have  pass’d  since  then, 

And  deeper  wounds  been  torn: 

But  ah!  my  first  heart-rending  grief 
Was  long  and  sadly  borne! 

It  came  when  love  and  hope  were  bright, 
And  crush’d  my  fondest  dream  ; 

How  dark  the  night  that  bore  away 
My  beautiful  sunbeam ! 

Another  bosom  felt  the  wound, 

The  agonizing  grief- — 

A noble  father,  chaste  and  good, 

Who  sought  to  give  relief : 

But  now,  alas ! that  father  sleeps 
Entomb’d  in  honor’d  grave; 

And  side  by  side  they  rest  in  peace, 

The  gentle  and  the  brave  ! 


THE  BRIDE  S FAREWELL. 


31 


THE  BRIDE’S  FAREWELL. 

SORROWING  friends  with  tearful  eyes 
Were  gather’d  round  the  joyous  bride; 
Friends,  home  and  kindred,  what  were  they, 
While  lin  of’ ring’  near  her  husband’s  side? 

o o 

He  who  had  won  her  virgin  heart 

Now  gladly  claim’d  the  prize  his  own, 

And  trustingly  she  left  all — all , 

To  go  forth  with  the  dear  unknown. 

Now  the  last  sad  kiss  was  given, 

The  last  farewell  softly  said — 

And  she,  the  chaste  and  happy  bride, 

Was  gently  by  that  dear  one  led. 

Far  away  from  childhood  scenes 

He  proudly  bore  his  blushing  bride  ; 

She,  in  her  innocence  and  joy, 

Now  clung  to  him  with  youthful  pride. 


32 


THE  BRIDE’S  FAREWELL. 


He  took  her  to  his  Western  home 
Where  all  was  bright  and  beautiful  ; 
And  fondly  to  his  bosom  clasp’d 
His  Ella,  meek  and  dutiful. 

Transplanted  in  a distant  soil, 

With  loving  friends  to  cheer  and  bless,. 

•> 

She  grieves  not  for  the  dear  ones  left, 

Or  ever  feels  a heart  distress. 

A tender  love,  refined  and  pure, 

Mingles  with  all  their  tranquil  joys  ; 
While  hand  in  hand,  with  loving  hearts,. 
A noble  work  their  time  employs. 


THE  MOSQUITO. 


o y- 
Ov> 


THE  MOSQUITO. 

UA  little  nonsense  now  and  then 
Is  relished  by  the  best  of  men” 

ON  a pleasant  day  in  the  month  of  June, 

When  sleeping  sweetly  one  bright  after- 
noon, 

A cruel  mosquito,  buzzing  around, 

Suddenly  awoke  me  by  his  queer  sound  ; 

One  eye  had  receiv’d  a wound  from  his  sting, 
But  swift  as  thought  he  was  soon  on  the  wing j 
I arose  from  my  lounge,  rubbing  my  eye, 

The  wicked  insect  nowhere  could  I spy. 

But  quickly  a thought  came  up  in  my  mind, 
That  round  it  a little  rhyme  I would  wind : 

Oft  I have  wonder’d  what  use  they  coiild  be,. 
Pouncing  on  us  like  an  impudent  flea  ; 

But  now  they  give  me  a theme  for  my  pen,. 
Better  for  me  they  had  staid  in  their  den  ; 

Of  all  the  insects  1 ever  have  met, 

They  are  the  most  insinuating  set. 


34 


THE  MOSQUITO. 


Let  but  a soft  breeze  be  wafted  within, 

Next  comes  a mosquito,  sharp  as  a pin  ; 
Should  we  close  our  blinds  to  keep  out  the  sun, 
In  the  dark  corners  they  are  sure  to  run. 

’T  is  only  under  a bar  we  can  hide, 

And  then  they  often  creep  in  at  the  side ; 
Motion,  motion,  is  the  best  we  can  do, 
Perpetual  motion  we  must  noiv  woo. 

Or  out  in  the  sunlight  seek  a retreat, 

Where  rippling  waters  flow  soft  at  our  feet ; 
Suppose  we  build  a dense  smoke  in  our  room, 
This  soon  fills  the  house  all  over  with  gloom : 
While  I write  they  are  singing  about  my  ear, 
Dear  me,  dear  me,  they  are  getting  too  near ; 

I must  throw  down  my  pen,  rush  out  in  the  air, 
Or  I shall  be  stung  by  the  buzzing  pair! 


TO  FANNIE. 


35 


TO  FANNIE. 

I KNEW  a lady  young  and  gay, 
Who  ever  sang  a cheerful  lay ; 
Her  brow  wore  not  a shade  of  care, 
For  all  was  calm  and  peaceful  there. 

But  in  that  happy  hour  there  came 
A lover  who  was  seeking  fame, 

And  to  affection’s  holy  shrine 
Bowed  in  meekness  most  divine. 

She  gave  her  pure  and  virgin  heart, 
Gently  pierced  by  Cupid’s  dart  ; 

And  in  that  happy  moment  thought 
Not  of  the  pangs  that  bosom  bought. 

Soon  the  slanderous  tongue  proclaim’d 
That  he  for  recklessness  was  fam’d  ; 
And  then  her  early  hopes  were  riven, 
Although  that  heart  was  freely  given. 


TO  FANNIE. 


At  first  she  heeded  not  the  word 
Which  from  false  slander’s  tongue  was; 
heard, 

But  in  a thoughtless  hour  she  broke 
The  vows  which  first  affection  spoke.. 

To  him  a cruel  letter  went ; 

With  it  an  aching  heart  was  sent ; 

And  then  she  thought  forgetfulness- 
Would  soon  restore  her  happiness. 

But  from  that  fatal,  hapless  day, 

Her  heart  has  felt  no  joyous  ray ; 

Still  in  that  bosom  dwells  a thorn, 

For  all  her  brightest  hopes  are  gone  l 


TO  MV  ADOPTED  DAUGHTER. 


37 


TO  MY  ADOPTED  DAUGHTER. 

IT  was  on  a bright  day  in  early  spring, 
When  merry  birds  were  beginning  to  sing, 
My  home  was  rifled  of  its  fairest  flower, 
And  lone  I sat  in  my  shady  bower  ; 

A delicate  young  babe  was  brought  to  me, 
Who  was  gently  weeping,  though  bitterly  ; 
But  the  innocent  babe  of  fragile  mold 
I could  not  love  then,  for  my  heart  was  cold. 

Stern  Death  had  robb’d  me  of  my  darling  boy, 
And  sore  disease  had  clouded  ev’ry  joy  ; 
How  could  I to  my  aching  bosom  press 
The  orphan  lonely  with  my  heart  distress  ? 
Sadly  I gazed,  while  my  husband  bore 
The  weeping  infant  through  my  boudoir  door ; 
Love,  pity,  and  deep  affection  flow’d, 

A tender  passion  in  my  bosom  glow’d. 


8 


TO  MY  ADOPTED  DAUGHTER. 


As  time  roll’d  on.  around  my  heart  was  twin’d 
For  her  a holy  love,  chaste  and  refin’d ; 

And  as  she  grew  in  years  she  grew  in  grace. 
Soft  as  the  silv’ry  wave  her  downy  face ; 
Obedient,  gen’rous,  and  kind  she  grew, 

Was  most  highly  priz’d  by  those  she  knew  ; 
A priceless  jewel,  doubly  dear  to  those, 

Who  know  her  best,  the  sweetest,  fairest  rose. 

Within  my  heart  one  lonely  corner  drear 
She  fills,  with  kindness  and  affection’s  tear — 
Whene’er  I press  her  to  my  aching  breast, 
And  know  that  she  returns  my  fond  caress. 

I feel  my  work  has  not  been  all  in  vain, 

“ A soft,  still  voice”  whispers,  low  and  plain. 
The  flower  to  you  in  sorrow  given, 

Nurture,  train,  fit,  and  prepare  for  Heaven. 


THE  BATTLE  FIELD  AT  NIGHT. 


39 


THE  BATTLE  FIELD  AT  NIGHT. 

HARK  ! hark  ! I hear  the  distant  roar 
Out  in  the  midnight  gloom  ; 
Fierce  battle’s  strife  will  soon  be  o’er, 

I hear  the  cannon’s  boom  ! 

Death  rides  triumphant  on  the  field, 

Our  enemies  are  slain  ; 

And  conquering  hosts  are  on  the  way 
Returning  home  again. 

But  far  behind  a soldier  lies 
Upon  the  battle  plain  ; 

He  nobly  fell  before  the  foe, 

And  sleeps  beside  the  slain. 

No  gentle  sister’s  tender  voice 
Was  near  to  soothe  his  pain, 

No  anxious  brother  stood  around 
To  look  upon  the  slain. 


.40  THE  BATTLE  FIELD  AT  NIGHT. 

No  father’s  hand  upheld  his  boy 
While  struggling  in  the  fight, 

But  “ God,  who  arms  the  patriot,” 
Was  with  him  through  the  night. 

No  corselet  shone  upon  his  breast 
As  on  the  field  he  lay  ; 

No  mother’s  tears  fell  o’er  his  corse, 
For  she  was  far  away. 

Alone  in  death  poor  Bennie  lay, 
With  none  to  shed  a tear  ; 

.But  leaning  on  his  Savior’s  breast, 
That  hero  felt  no  fear. 


TO  MRS.  BRONSON  BAYLISS. 


4 


TO  MRS.  BRONSON  BAYLISS. 

HOW  many  sad  and  weary  hearts 

Have  found  a home  within  thine  own 
How  many  orphan  tears  been  dried, 

None  but  our  God  alone  has  known  ! 

I saw  a group  of  lonely  babes 

Around  thy  hearth  one  gloomy  day  ; 
Their  hearts  were  sad,  no  joy  had  they, 
Mother  and  friends  were  far  away. 

The  scene  was  chang’d — I went  again, 

o o 

Three  bright  and  happy  children  came 
To  greet  me  with  their  joyous  smiles, 

And  one,  a little  boy,  was  lame. 

A refuge  from  the  cold,  cold  world, 

That  poor  afflicted  boy  had  found  ; 

The  wounds  were  healing  in  his  heart, 

His  loving  soul  to  thee  was  bound. 

4 


42 


TO  MRS.  BRONSON  BAYLISS. 


A mother’s  place,  how  well  you  fill’d, 

A fond,  devoted  mother  dead — 

Those  precious  babes  by  you  were  rear’d- 
By  you — the  anxious  tear  was  shed. 

Years  pass’d  away — that  boy  was  heal’d, 
Your  namesake,  little  Loii,  was  dead  ; 

An  elder  sister  claim’d  her  place, 

Whom  to  the  house  of  God  you  led. 

The  sands  of  time  another  brought — 
Another  was  by  you  caress’d  ; 

To  each  you  gave  a welcome  kiss, 

And  warmly  to  your  bosom  press’d. 

One  by  one  those  charming  virgins 
W ere  to  the  nuptial  altar  led  ; 

The  boy,  restor’d  to  health  again, 

Away  to  other  lands  has  fled. 

You  stand  alone — yet  not  alone, 

A noble  husband  comes  at  ev’n  ; 

A princely  mansion  is  your  home, 

It  seems  almost  an  earthly  Ed’n. 


iro  MRS.  BRONSON  BAYL1SS. 


43 


The  bloom  of  youth  you  seem  to  wear, 
Though  forty  years  or  more  have  flown, 
Since  first  dame  Nature  claim’d  you  hers. 
Or  you  to  hoary  Time  were  known. 


44 


“THE  LIGHT’S.  COME  OUT,  MAMMA.” 


“THE  LIGHT’S  COME  OUT,  MAMMA.” 

HOW  sweetly  fall  from  infant  lips 
The  blessed  words  of  love ! 

How  sweetly  to  a mother’s  ear 
When  uttered  by  her  dove  ! 

“ The  light ’s  come  out,  Mamma,”  was  said 
One  bright  and  lovely  morn — 

“ The  light ’s  come  out,  let  us  dit  up  ; ” 
These  words  were  said  at  dawn. 

A score  of  years  almost , since  then, 

On  time’s  dark  wing  has  flown, 

And  he  who  uttered  these  sweet  words 
Has  pass’d  to  worlds  unknown. 

Painted  in  gold  on  mem’ry’s  page, 

These  treasured  words  how  bright ! 
How  like  an  angel’s  voice  they  come 
In  whisp’rings  of  the  night ! 


“ THE  LIGHT ’s  COME  OUT,  MAMMA.”  45 

“ Mamma,”  little  Phille  said  one  day, 

“ Let ’s  die  and  go  to  Heaven  ; 

Then  we  will  have  a golden  harp, 

And  we  can  play  at  even.” 

Months  pass’d  away  ; my  bright-eyed  boy 
Grew  weak,  and  sick,  and  cold, 

And  threw  his  arms  around  my  neck. 

So  faint  he  scarce  could  hold. 

I clasp’d  him  fondly  to  my  breast 
With  all  a mother’s  fear  ; 

And  then  I felt,  ah  ! keenly  felt, 

That  death  was  drawing  near ! 

Eight  days  of  fev’rish  restlessness 
He  tossed  upon  his  bed  ; 

I watched  beside  his  dying  couch 
With  anxious  fear  and  dread. 

Convulsions  blurr’d  his  tender  cheek, 
Death’s  agonies  were  strong  ; 

It  seem’d  a beautiful  angel 
Pealed  forth  a merry  song. 


46  “the  light’s  come  out,  mamma.”* 

A Heavenly  smile  lit  up  his  face, 

For  life  was  ebbing  fast  ; 

Another  beauteous  smile  arose, 

The  sweetest,  ’twas  his  last. 

That  last,  sweet  smile  comes  back  to-day,. 

Seen  through  the  lapse  of  years — 
Comes  softly,  as  the  falling  dews,. 

And  mingles  with  my  tears. 


A DESCRIPTION. 


47 


A DESCRIPTION 

Of  Miss  May  Johnston,  while  reading  her  Graduating  Essay , 
Valedictory  Address , receiving  l he  last  honors  of  St.  Agnes 

Academy , June  18,  1874 

HOW  calm  and  beautiful  she  stood 
Before  the  waiting  crowd — 

While  ev’ry  eye  was  fix’d  on  her, 

As  gracefully  she  bow’d. 

“ The  Barque  of  Life,  well  tried  and  true,” 
And  launch’d  by  oars  strong, 

Was  ably  handled,  well  propell’d, 
xYnd  echoed  as  a song. 

Spell-bound  her  hearers  noiseless  sat, 

While  down  the  stream  of  Time 
She  bore  them  o’er  the  mountain  crags, 
Grand,  lofty  and  sublime! 


48 


A DESCRIPTION. 


We  follow'd  in  her  fancies  bright 
Each  dell,  and  nook,  and  bend, 

And  wonder’d  from  her  eagle  flight 
How  she  could  well  descend. 

Onward  and  onward  still  she  soar’d, 
Above  the  world  of  light — 

Then  mournfully  her  voice  she  lower’d, 
Soft  as  a dream  of  night. 

In  tears  was  heard  the  sad  farewell, 
Teachers  and  comrades  dear 
Sat  silently,  with  moisten’d  eyes. 

Too  sad,  by  far,  to  cheer. 

Hush’d  and  still  the  audience  sat, 

As  from  the  stage  at  last, 

With  flowing  robes  of  spotless  white, 
She  calmly  by  them  pass'd. 

Sadty  before  the  crowd  she  knelt, 
Proud  of  her  honors  bright — 

While  gently  o’er  her  head  was  thrown 
The  gold  n medal  light. 


A DESCRIPTION. 


49 


The  medal,  emblem  of  success, 
Diligence  and  power, 

Suspended  round  her  snowy  neck, 

A bright,  jewel’d  flower. 

The  vestal  queen  at  night,  array’d 
In  all  her  splendor  bright, 

Could  not  surpass  this  peerless  maid 
Crown’d  with  a wreath  of  white. 


5° 


THE  PEARL  OF  FAITH. 


THE  PEARL  OF  FAITH. 

I ASK  not  for  the  brilliant  joys 
Which  earthly  pleasures  give — 

I ask  not  for  the  gilded  toys 
Which  will  not  always  live ! 

The  richest  gems  of  earth  will  fade, 
The  sweetest  flowers  die  ; 

And  all  the  gold  that  man  has  made, 
Will  soon  take  wings  and  fly ! 

The  diamond  wreath  around  thy  brow. 

Which  looks  so  bright  and  fair, 
Could  tell  a tale  of  anguish  now 
While  sparkling  in  thy  hair. 

Fame’s  chaplet,  too,  will  wither,  soon. 
And  pass  from  earth  away ; 

The  blushing  buds,  so  fresh  at  noon,. 
Will  only  last  a day  ! 


THE  PEARL  OF  FAITH. 


51 


But  there ’s  a jewel,  rich  and  bright, 
That  shineth  from  above — 

It  giveth  light,  though  dark  the  night, 
And  fills  the  soul  with  love. 

That  star  is  Faith — the  pilgrim’s  guide — 
It  soothes  him  here  below ; 

It  spreads  the  Heavenly  portals  wide, 
And  bids  him  onward  go. 

Oh  ! give  me  but  that  precious  star, 

The  gem  of  Faith  to  wear, 

When  death  all  earthly  pleasures  mar, 
Oh  ! place  it  in  my  hair ! 

When  on  celestial  walks  I stand, 

Within  the  gates  of  Eden, 

And  view  that  pure  and  holy  land 
With  all  the  bless’d  in  Heaven, 

Then  let  it  sparkle  in  my  crown, 

This  pearl  of  Faith  I wear; 

My  armor  then  I will  lay  down, 

And  in  Thy  glory  share  ! 


2 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  JENNIE  MOORE. 


TO  THE  ME  AT  OR  V OF 

LITTLE  JENNIE  MOORE, 

Of  Murfreesboro^  Tenn. 

MOTHER,  weep  not!  tho’  dark  the  cloud 
That  hangs  around  thy  spirit  bow’d  ; 
Behind  the  vale,  in  Heavenly  climes, 

Your  darling  Jennie  sweetly  smiles. 

Weep  not!  your  little  bird  has  flown, 

Away  from  earth,  to  worlds  unknown  ; 

Sweet  warbler  in  a land  of  rest, 

Her  home  is  with  the  pure  and  blest. 

An  angel  came,  with  golden  wing, 

To  hear  your  little  birdie  sing; 

Charm’d  by  the  music,  soft  and  sweet, 

She  bore  her  to  the  Savior’s  feet. 

One  link  is  broken  in  the  chain, 

Your  first  and  only  babe  is  slain  ; 

’T  was  not  in  anger,  but  in  love, 

The  Father  bore  your  child  above. 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  JENNIE  MOORE.  = 

To  woo  yotiT  spirit  to  that  land 
Where  all  is  beautiful  and  grand, 

He  took  your  little  bird  away 
To  dwell  where  all  is  endless  day. 

The  morning  light  has  dawn’d  around, 
She  hears  angelic  music  sound; 

No  more,  no  more,  on  earth  she  ’ll  roam, 
But  softly  sings,  At  home,  sweet  home  ! 

Where  Jesus  dwells,  and  seraphs  roam, 
Mother,  your  babe  has  found  a home  ; 
And  when  you  lisp  your  prayer  at  even, 
Sweet  little  birdie  will  sing  in  Heaven. 


54 


THE  RAINBOW. 


THE  RAINBOW. 

ONE  beautiful  morn  in  the  month  of  May, 
When  flowers  were  cover’d  all  o’er  with 
spray — 

I stood  near  my  window,  fronting  the  well, 
And  calmly  watched  for  a dear  gazelle. 

The  lilies  were  blooming  sweetly  that  day, 

The  children  were  out  in  the  forest  at  play ; 

I drew  up  the  shade,  and  soft  was  the  breeze 
That  gently  waved,  ’mid  flowers  and  trees. 

Away  in  the  east  I saw  a dark  cloud, 

Which  spread  over  earth  like  a mantling  shroud ; 
Hoarse  thunders  were  mutt’ring  sullen  that  way, 
And  lightning  flashes  were  vivid  at  play. 

The  herd  on  the  lawn  looked  wildly  aroupd, 
And  raindrops  were  falling  fast  to  the  ground — 


THE  RAINBOW. 


55 


When  the  sun  came  forth,  ’mid  a shower  of 
tears, 

And  quickly  a brilliant  rainbow  appears. 

It  spread  far  out  with  a radiant  glow, 
Encompassing  earth  in  a circling  bow  ; 

From  north  to  south  it  enveloped  the  skies, 
With  rapturous  beauty,  dazzling  the  eyes. 

As  I gazed  on  the  tranquil  scene  that  day, 

Far  in  the  distance  it  faded  away — 

And  left  in  the  heavens,  floating  above, 

A soft,  fleecy  cloud,  sweet  emblem  of  love. 


56 


TO  MOLLIE. 


TO  MOLLIE. 

DEAR  Mollie,  could  I call  thee  mine, 
The  fondly  priz’d  of  other  years  ; 
Could  love  around  thy  heart  entwine 
A wreath  of  beauty  seen  through  tears 
Oh  ! Mollie,  couldst  thou  read  this  heart, 
That  never  knew  another  shrine — 
Thou  wouldst  not  from  me  coldly  part, 
But  let  me  love  thee,  call  thee  mine ! 

Thy  magic  voice  has  often  cheer’d 
This  wayward  heart  of  sad  unrest — 
And  held  my  soul  to  earth  endear’d, 

For  lingering  near  thee,  I was  bless’d. 
When  on  thy  way  to  school  one  morn, 
The  Convent  bells  were  loudly  rung, 

’T  was  when  our  love  was  in  its  dawn, 
And  care  was  from  us  lightly  flung. 

How  anxiously  I watch’d  the  lawn, 

To  catch  a glimpse  of  thee  that  day  ! 


TO  MOLLIE. 


57 


And  boldly  I defied  their  scorn, 

Should  holy  Sisters  come  that  way. 

We  met — you  smil'd— how  bless’d  was  I, 

To  feel  that  smile  was  all  my  own  ! 

But  now  we  meet,  you  only  sigh, 

And  look  on  me  as  one  unknown. 

Oh  ! Mollie,  smile  on  me  once  more, 

That  dear,  sweet  smile  of  long  ago  ! 

When  you  and  I,  in  blithesome  glee, 

Went  forth  amid  the  winter’s  snow; 

When  by  your  side  I stood  to  catch 
Soft  music  floating  in  the  air — 

Or  from  your  hair  fresh  garlands  snatch, 
That  hung  so  beautifully  there. 

Then,  Mollie,  smile  on  me  once  more, 

That  dear,  sweet  smile  of  long  ago ; 

From  my  lone  heart  remove  the  sore, 

The  sad  distress  you  cannot  know. 

Then,  I ’ll  return  to  life  again, 

And  cherish  long  those  dear,  sweet  smiles  ; 

I ’ll  drive  away  this  weary  pain, 

And  seek  repose  in  Cupid’s  wiles. 

5 


58 


NEARER,  MY  GOI),  TO  THEE. 


NEARER,  MY  GOD,  TO  THEE! 

NEARER,  O,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

My  wand’ring  thoughts  I bring  ; 
Nearer  to  a throne  of  grace, 

Oh,  may  I daily  sing ! 

The  joys  of  earth  pass  away 
Like  phantoms  in  a dream — 

But  grief  hangs  around  the  soul, 

More  dark  than  ocean’s  stream. 

Amid  life’s  gay  and  festive  hours 
The  thoughts  will  sometimes  roam  ; 
But  when  those  joys  fade  away, 

The  spirit  pines  for  home. 

That  home  beyond  the  vale, 

Far,  far  away  from  earth, 

Where  purest  joys  ever  reign 
Unclogg’d  by  sinful  mirth. 


NEARER,  MY  GOD,  TO  THEE. 


59 


May  I humbly  claim  when  laid 
Beneath  the  verdant  sod, 

A rest  where  lov’d  ones  reign, 
Around  the  throne  of  God ! 

Together  may  we  linger, 

Amid  the  shades  of  Eden  ; 

And  together  may  we  roam 
The  pearly  streets  of  Heaven. 

Oh,  together  may  we  meet 
The  sacramental  host, 

Who  feast  on  richer  treasures 
Around  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Nearer,  O,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

We  then  shall  surely  be  ; 

Loos’d  from  earth,  the  caged  bird 
Will  soar  aloft  to  Thee! 


6o 


TO  MAY. 


TO  MAY. 

I SAW  thee  smile,  my  heart  was  cheer’d, 
It  spoke  kind  thoughts  of  me; 

To  see  that  smile,  and  hear  that  voice, 

It  fill’d  my  soul  with  glee. 

My  fond  affections  round  thee  twine, 

At  midnight’s  silent  hour; 

Thou  ’rt  with  me  in  my  waking  dreams, 

My  sweet  and  lovely  flower. 

Where’er  I stray,  where’er  I roam, 

That  smile,  it  haunts  me  still ; 

More  beautiful  to  me  thou  art 
Than  valley,  plain,  or  hill. 

I prize  the  treasures  of  thy  mind, 

Thy  stately  form  I love  ; * 

Thy  soft  and  pensive  eyes,  so  mild, 

And  gentle,  like  the  dove. 


TO  MAY. 


6l 

I love  to  linger  near  thy  door, 

My  own,  my  precious  May  ; 

I love  in  solitude  to  roam, 

And  think  of  thee  by  day. 

I love  to  clasp  within  my  own 
Thy  soft  and  tender  hand ; 

I love  to  gaze  within  those  eyes 
That  look  on  me  so  bland. 

Forgive,  dear  May,  these  hasty  lines, 
And  still  remember  me  ; 

Though  calm  and  quiet  be  my  love, 

’T  is  deeper  than  the  sea. 


62 


THE  SLEEPING  INFANT. 


THE  SLEEPING  INFANT. 

SLEEP  on,  thou  lovely  cherub,  sleep, 
Sweet  angels  ever  guard  thy  rest ; 
With  joy  they  watch  thy  slumbers  deep, 
And  soothe  the  sorrows  of  thy  breast. 

No  anguish  now  thy  bosom  rends, 

But  calmly  rests  thy  sleeping  frame  ; 
While  Jesus  o’er  thee  mildly  bends 

And  breathes  sweet  blessings  on  thy  name. 

Sweet  be  thy  slumbers,  lovely  one  ! 

With  not  a care  upon  thy  brow ; 

And  when  thy  earthly  race  is  run, 

O may  thy  sleep  be  sweet  as  now ! 

May  then,  as  now,  sweet  angels  stand, 
Around  thy  blissful  soul  above, 

To  greet  thee  in  that  happy  land 

With  songs  of  praise  and  Heavenly  love. 


SAD  MEMORIES. 


63 


SAD  MEMORIES. 

? IS  said  that  “Time  can  heal  all  wounds,” 


That  sorrows  pass  away  ; 

That  dear  ones,  with  their  joyful  sounds, 
Are  treasur’d  but  a day. 

Long  years  have  flown,  but  sorrow’s  chain 
Around  my  heart  still  hangs  ; 

Tho’  none  may  know  the  bitter  pain, 

The  agonizing  pangs. 

Time  steals  away  the  bloom  of  youth, 

But  leaves  a careworn  brow  ; 

It  tells  a tale  of  bitter  truth, 

And  oft  a broken  vow. 

As  we  ascend  the  rugged  hill 
Toward  the  heavenly  clime, 

Fond  mem’ry  claims  her  jewels  still, 
Despite  the  lapse  of  time. 


64 


SAI)  MEMORIES. 


Though  youthful  hearts  with  joy  may  thrill, 
And  cheer  us  for  an  hour, 

Sad  thoughts  will  hover  round  us  still, 

In  our  lonely  bower. 

The  wither’d  oak  may  seem  to  bloom, 
Wrapp’d  in  its  coat  of  green  ; 

The  blooming  vine  may  hide  the  gloom, 
The  tree  may  not  be  seen. 

That  blighted  trunk  supports  the  vine 
That  gives  its  body  life  ; 

Those  verdant  leaves  on  it  recline, 

With  not  a word  of  strife 

So  we,  the  with’ring,  bleeding  stems, 
Support  our  fragile  young  ; 

And  round  us  shine  the  sparkling  gems 
That  from  our  bosoms  sprung. 

New  light  and  life  they  seem  to  give, 

And  hide  the  gloom  within  ; 

But  on  the  fading  stalk  they  live, 

Secure  from  deadly  sin. 


TO  FLORENCE. 


65 


TO  FLORENCE. 

ALONE  and  sad,  she  sat  apart 

From  the  gay  and  giddy  crowd- 
Thinking  now  of  the  far-off  past, 

Softly  veil’d  in  a mystic  cloud. 

She  was  pondering  o’er  the  days 
When  a bright  and  merry  child ; 
With  a loving  father’s  hand  in  hers, 
They  roamed  o’er  the  forest  wild. 

But  now,  no  father’s  sweet  caress 
Did  she  feel,  as  she  sat  apart ; 

No  mother’s  tender  voice  was  heard, 
Falling  softly  on  her  bruis’d  heart. 

“ Oh  ! why  am  I so  lone  ? ” she  thought, 

“ With  no  fond  hearts  to  care  for  me? 
Why  was  my  mother  torn  away, 

And  I left  on  life’s  turbid  sea  ? 


66 


TO  FLORENCE. 


“ Mother ! oh  ! my  darling  mother, 

Gladly  would  I have  died  with  thee  ! 
And  gladly  by  thy  side  been  laid, 

To  rest  in  Heaven  joyously. 

“ My  father  ! oh  ! most  cruel  fate, 

Was  foully  snatched  away  from  me  ; 
Does  God  avenge  his  loving  ones, 

His  children,  who  mourn  bitterly? 

il  ‘ Vengeance  is  mine,  I will  repay.’ 

Blessed  words  ! they  come  from  Heav’n 
And  on  my  soul  with  healing  balm, 

Fall  softly  as  the  dews  of  ev’n. 

■“  Then  I will  suffer  and  be  strong, 

Since ’t  is  my  Holy  Father’s  will ; 

And  though  an  orphan  lone  I am, 

Hush  murmurings,  be  calm  and  still.” 


THE  POOR  RICH  IN  FAITH. 


67 


THE  POOR  RICH  IN  FAITH. 

HOW  blest  the  humble  poor,  who  seek 
To  crown  the  closing  day 
With  holy,  humble,  contrite  prayer, 

Soft  as  the  falling  spray  ! 

The  hour  for  evening  prayer  has  come, 
The  busy  day’s  work  o’er  ; 

With  tranquil  hearts  they  gather  round 
The  time-worn  cottage  door. 

The  father  knee’.s  in  fervent  prayer. 

Sweet  blessings  to  implore  ; 

The  mother  with  her  darling  babes 
Bows  on  the  well-swept  floor. 

And  while  they  lift  their  pleading  hearts 
In  humble,  child-like  tones, 

From  Heaven  is  wafted  saving  faith, 
Which  calms  their  troub'ed  moans. 


68  THE  POOR  RICH  IN  FAITH. 

Their  treasures  all  around  them  bow’d,. 

With  not  a thought  of  care — 

Their  souls  in  pious  ecstasy 
Flow  out  to  God  in  prayer. 

Together  bound  by  loving  ties 

While  marching  through  the  vale, 
They  struggle  on  and  falter  not 
Nor  heed  the  tempest  gale. 

A numerous  offspring,  brave  and  truer 
Their  brightest,  purest  gems — 

In  clusters  rich,  around  their  home, 
Adorn  the  parent  stems. 

Content  to  dwell  in  humble  life, 

No  costly  garb  they  wear ; 

But  robes  of  righteousness  adorn 
The  rich  and  happy  pair. 


THE  LONELY  MAIDEN. 


6 9 


THE  LONELY  MAIDEN. 


HE  crowds  were  assembled  most  joyously, 


And  the  voices  of  many  rang  merrily — 
But  apart  from  the  throng,  near  a window  lone, 
Sat  Lula,  in  silence  and  sorrow,  unknown. 

Her  cheeks  wore  no  roses — her  face  wore  no 
smiles ; 

Her  thoughts  were  wandering  to  far  distant 
isles ; 

Thus  sat  fair  Lula,  from  the  joyous  apart, 
Alone  ’midst  the  gleeful,  in  sadness  of  heart. 

Once  she  was  light-hearted  and  mirthful  as  they, 
The  delight  of  her  friends  in  a happier  day  ; 
But  sorrow  and  wrongs  her  spirit  had  bow’d, 
And  now  she  was  lonely  e’en  in  the  gay  crowd. 

Poor  Lula  had  lov’d,  and  deep  was  the  flame, 
That  glow’d  in  her  bosom  for  one  of  fair  name ; 


70 


THE  LONELY  MAIDEN. 


For  years  she  had  lov’d  him,  who  promis’d  in 
youth, 

To  break  not  the  vows  they  had  plighted  in 
truth. 

In  sorrow  or  anguish  she  clung  to  him  still, 
And  often  submissively  yielded  her  will ; 

But  false  to  the  vows  her  lover  had  taken, 

He  left  her  to  pine  in  sadness  forsaken. 


THE  PILGRIM. 


7* 


THE  PILGRIM. 

THE  wayworn  pilgrim  travels  on  each  day, 
Unconscious  of  the  hours  that  pass  away; 
No  ties  to  bind  his  fainting  soul  to  earth, 

He  shuns  the  scenes  of  gayety  and  mirth. 

With  tranquil  thought,  and  polish’d  armor 
bright, 

With  bold  resolve  the  wicked  world  to  fight, 
Onward  he  toils,  nor  heeds  the  things  around, 
Though  oft  a victim  to  discordant  sound. 

Temptations  fierce  assault  him  by  the  way, 

But  strength  from  God  is  given  ev’ry  day; 

The  star  of  faith  directs  his  course  aright, 
Though  dark  and  stormy  be  the  bitter  night. 

His  little  bark  upon  the  ocean  wave, 

Onward  he  steers,  with  steady  hand  and  brave ; 


72 


THE  PILGRIM. 


Though  often  tortur’d  by  a frowning  sea, 

He  wavers  not,  but  rushes  to  the  lee. 

And  now  his  long-sought  home  is  just  in  view, 
He  sees  the  holy  city,  grand  and  new ; 

The  haven  is  gain’d,  no  more  will  he  roam, 

But  will  rest  forever,  at  home,  sweet  home ! 


THY  MOTHER. 


THY  MOTHER. 

WHO,  when  disease  lurk’d  in  thy 
veins, 

And  pensive  was  thine  eye, 

Calmly  bore  thee  on  her  aching  breast, 
And  heav’d  a troubled  sigh  ? 

Thy  mother. 

Who,  when  fever  parch’d  thy  lips, 

And  threaten’d  early  death, 

Nurs’d  beside  thy  little  bed, 

And  watch’d  thy  ev’ry  breath  ? 

Thy  mother. 

Who,  when  the  roseate  hue  of  health 
Was  blooming  in  thy  face, 

Look’d  fondly  on  thy  smiling  cheek, 
That  wore  a soften’d  grace  ? 

Thy  mother. 


6 


74 


THY  MOTHER. 


Who,  when  thy  wayward  brothers  teas’d 
And  gave  thee  pungent  grief, 

Sooth’d  thy  troubled  brow,  my  child, 
And  brought  thee  sweet  relief? 

Thy  mother. 

And  who,  with  anxious  care  for  thee, 
Thy  little  head  to  store, 

With  learning  much  from  irksome  books, 
Toil’d  with  thee  more  and  more  ? 

Thy  mother. 

Who,  when  in  classic  school  you  stood 
And  learning  gave  you  pain, 
Explain’d  the  arduous  lessons, 

And  made  them  very  plain  ? 

Thy  mother. 

Who,  when  vacation  came  at  last, 

And  books  were  laid  away, 

Sent  thee  out,  ’mid  trees  and  flowers, 
On  the  green  lawn  to  play? 

Thy  mother. 


THY  MOTHER. 


75 


And  who,  when  wearied  with  thy  play, 

My  own,  my  precious  charge, 

Who  prayed  to  God  fervently, 

Thy  pleasures  to  enlarge  ? 

Thy  mother. 

Then,  dearest  child,  ne’er  wound  that  heart, 
That  would  not  give  thee  pain  ; 

But  always  seek,  by  gentle  words, 

Her  happiness  to  gain — 

Thy  mother’s. 


76' 


LOOK  TO  CHRIST. 


LOOK  TO  CHRIST. 

TEMPTATIONS  dark  around  me  la}', 
And  veil’d  my  Savior  from  my  sight 
No  light  appear’d  to  cheer  my  way, 

No  voice  dispell’d  the  mystic  night: 
Weeks  roll’d  away,  the  clouds  remain’d,. 

The  tempter  hurl’d  his  darts  severe;, 

No  calm  within  my  bosom  reign’d, 

The  world  to  me  was  dark  and  drear. . 

I pray’d  in  agony,  and  wept, 

The  clouds  grew  darker  day  by  day ; 
The  tempter  close  around  me  kept, 

And  threw  his  darts  within  my  way. . 
The  lovely  earth  had  lost  its  charm, 

Sweet  Nature  wore  a sable  robe; 

I look’d  around  in  sad  alarm, 

And  felt  this  world  a dreary  globe.. 


'LOOK  TO  CHRIST. 


'The  Bible,  holy,  blessed  book, 

Was  wrapp’d  in  dark,  mysterious  gloom 
To  Heaven  I cast  a weary  look. 

And  lo ! I saw  a beauteous  bloom  ! 

The  star  of  Hope,  serenely  bright, 
Adorn’d  in  radiant  vesture  rare, 

And  Christ,  the  Savior,  glory  light. 
Shone  in  Heaven,  divinely  fair! 

The  clouds  dispers’d,  I look’d  around, 
The  tempter  fled,  my  chains  were  gone 
No  more  my  captive  soul  was  bound, 

But  gently  to  my  Savior  drawn. 

That  Bible,  blessed  treasure,  fill’d 
My  happy  soul  with  calm  delight; 
Peace,  joy,  and  love,  my  bosom  thrill’d, 
The  gloomy  earth  again  look’d  bright! 


78 


• TO  MY  SISTER.. 


TO  MY  SISTER. 


LTHOUGH  your  face  a smile  may  wear 


As  if  no  shade  of  care  were  there. 
And  ever  in  the  giddy  crowd 
Your  thoughtless  laugh  rings  clear  and  loud’; 
Yet,  sister,  there  is  one  who  knows 
There ’s  sorrow  deep  beneath  these  glows; 
Yes,  there  a hidden  sorrow  lies 
That  veils  itself  in  secret  sighs. 

To  all  your  eyes  may  not  reveal 
The  silent  grief  they  would  conceal  ; 

But  from  a sister’s  earnest  gaze 
Naught  is  conceal’d  in  joyous  lays. 

The  saddest  face  a smile  may  wear. 

The  darkest  brow  seem  free  from  care. 

And  often  thrill  with  joyful  tones, 

When  inwardly  the  spirit  moans  L 


TO  MY  SISTEU. 


79 


Oh!  think  not,  that  because  you  see 
A face  all  joy  and  mirthful  glee, 

No  sorrow  ever  rends  that  breast 
Or  robs  it  of  its  peaceful  rest ! 

Often  beneath  that  smiling  brow 
Which  wears  no  shade  of  sorrow  now, 
The  deepest,  bitt’rest  anguish  lies 
Which  seeks  to  veil  itself  in  smiles ! 


8o 


A THOUGHT  OF  HOME. 


A THOUGHT  OF  HOME. 

THOUGH  far  from  the  land  of  childhood 
I roam, 

Oft,  oft,  will  my  thoughts  stray  back  to  my 
home ; 

And  though  with  bright  joys  my  bosom  may 
thrill, 

Sweet  land  of  my  youth,  I’ll  think  of  thee  still! 

I’ll  think  of  those  days,  when  happy  and  free, 
I wander’d  away,  full  of  joy  and  glee — 

And  sweet  friends  at  home,  I think  of  you  yet, 
Your  dear,  happy  smiles.  I can  never  forget. 

How  dear  to  me  still,  those  days  when  a child, 
I stray’d  over  hill  and  valley  so  wild  ; 

Or  gaz’d' on  the  sky,  so  tranquil  at  even, 

Till  my  soul  caught  a view  of  the  glory  of 
Heaven ! 


A THOUGHT  OF  HOME. 


8 I 


Alas ! those  sweet  moments  have  faded  and 
gone, 

Like  sparkling  dewdrops,  erst  shining  at  morn  ; 
Or  beautiful  sunbeams,  smiling  at  noon, 

That  fall  on  the  leafy  bowers  in  June  ! 


82 


TO  JENNIE. 


TO  JENNIE. 

ONCE  I priz’d  thee,  thought  thee  mine, 
And  gaz’d  on  thee  with  fond  delight 
But  ah!  those  joyous  days  are  gone, 

And  left  my  soul  in  darkest  night ! 

Those  azure  eyes,  that  charm  the  soul, 

On  me  no  longer  beam  with  joy  ; 

Thou  art  fair,  girl,  but  false  as  fair, 

The  shining  gold  is  sad  alloy. 

Let  me  forget  that  once  I lov’d 
As  fair  a gem  as  earth  e’er  claims, 

Oh ! perish  ev’ry  thought  of  her  ! 

My  soul,  my  inmost  soul,  exclaims  ! 

Farewell,  my  false  one,,  fare  thee  well  f 
Why  was  I doom’d  to  dark  despair  ?' 

Sad  is  my  fate,  ah  ! doubly  sad 

To  know  thee  false,  and  yet  so  fair  f 


TO  JENNIE. 


83 


But  I forgive  thee,  wish  thee  well, 

Though  my  poor  heart  be  breaking  still, 
Peaceful  be  thy  rest,  fair  flower — 

Peaceful  as  the  beauteous  rill! 

But  when  thy  heart  is  gay  and  light, 

And  friends  are  looking  on  with  glee— - 
When  others  smile  and  fondly  bless, 
Sometimes  lisp  a prayer  for  me  l 


84 


TWILIGHT. 


TWILIGHT. 

HOW  softly  falls  the  closing  day, 

When  all  our  cares  are  brush’d  away, 
And  quietly  we  seek  some  shade 
Within  a pleasant  sylvan  glade  ! 

How  sweet,  when  all  the  stars  of  night 
Send  forth  their  calm  and  silv’ry  light, 

To  sit  beneath  the  pearly  sky 

And  view  the  countless  worlds  on  high ! 

How  grand,  to  view  the  vestal  queen 
Afar  off,  in  her  beauty  seen, 

Surrounded  by  her  subjects  bright, 

Who  fill  the  lurid  clouds  with  light ! 

How  sweet,  to  lift  our  hearts  to  Heaven 
And  all  our  sins  to  feel  forgiven  ! 

How  sweet,  to  think  of  friends  above, 

The  treasur’d  friends,  whom  still  we  love  ! 


TWILIGHT. 


85 


How  sweet,  to  look  beyond  the  vale 
Where  no  more  is  heard  the  widow’s  wail ; 
By  faith  to  hear  angelic  songs 
Wafted  on  high  from  joyous  tongues  ! 

How  grand,  how  lofty  is  the  scene 
That  fancy  paints  in  living  green  ; 

How  brightly  shines  that  world  of  light, 
Which  never  had  a gloomy  night ! 

Lost  to  earth  in  beauteous  day, 

The  soul  forgets  this  realm  of  clay — 

And  soars  aloft  to  worlds  on  high 
Where  angel  spirits  never  sigh ! 

Sweet  at  this  hour  is  sacred  prayer, 

Ah  ! doubly  sweet  when  whisper’d  there ; 
Beneath  the  coronet  of  love, 

The  gentle  stars  that  shine  above ! 


86 


IN  MEMORY  OF  MATTIE  AVENT. 


IN  MEMORY  OF  MATTIE  AVENT. 

CHILD  of  affliction,  thou  art  gone  to  rest, 
And  left  an  aching  void  within  our  breast ; 
The  tender  care  of  many  anxious  years, 

No  more  we  feel,  but  bitter  falling  tears. 

When  of  our  children  oft  we ’ve  been  bereft, 
We’ve  wonder’d  much  to  think  thee  always  left ; 
And  sometimes  thought  ’t  were  better  thou 
shouldst  go, 

But  now,  alas ! our  hearts  are  fill’d  with  woe  ! 

Though  sweetly  in  the  quiet  grave  you  sleep, 
Mattie,  dear,  darling  child,  the  wound  is  deep  ; 
A mother’s  tears  will  keep  thy  mem’ry  green, 
And  from  her  soul  each  sinful  pleasure  wean. 

So  peacefully  the  angel  glided  in, 

And  gently  bore  our  child  away  from  sin ; 


IN  MEMORY  OF  MATTIE  AVENT. 


87 


We  meekly  feel  our  hearts  drawn  out  in  love 
To  praise  the  hand  that  pluck’d  our  cherish’d 
dove. 

As  years  roll  onward,  down  the  sands  of  Time, 
And  oft,  at  midnight,  requiem  bells  may  chime, 
Our  chasten’d  spirits,  woo’d  from  earth  each 
day, 

Will  calmly  think  of  pleasures  pass’d  away. 

Oh,  Lord,  our  Father!  draw  our  hearts  to 
Thee! 

Thy  love  in  all  our  sorrows  may  we  see ; 

Thy  children,  pure  and  holy,  may  we  live 
In  future  years — to  Thee  our  spirits  give  ! 


88 


SACRED  THOUGHTS. 


SACRED  THOUGHTS. 


AMID  the  stillness  of  my  quiet  room, 

A pleasant  vision  oft  dispels  my  gloom — 
Sadly  unfolds  the  scenes  of  other  years, 

And  gently  wipes  away  my  falling  tears. 


Oh  ! hallow’d  moments,  would  they  always  last. 
Those  nightly  visions  of  the  happy  past — 
How  calm  and  peaceful  would  my  spirit  be, 
Like  smiling  wavelets  on  a slumbering  sea  ! 

But  as  the  summer  cloud  at  break  of  day, 
Those  pleasant  dreams  erelong  will  fade  away  ; 
Alas  ! the  joys  of  other  years  have  fled, 

My  fondest  hopes  are  buried  with  the  dead  ! 

A lonely  pilgrim  down  the  stream  of  time, 

I travel  onward  ’midst  a world  of  crime ; 

No  friend  to  greet  me  on  life’s  dreary  way, 

No  voice  to  soothe  me  at  the  close  of  day ! 


SACRED  THOUGHTS. 


89 


Hope  bids  me  look  far  down  the  hill  of  time, 
Far  away  from  this  terrestrial  clime, 

To  brighter  scenes  entwin’d  within  the  view — 
A panorama  beautiful  and  new  ! 

The  scene  unfolds,  a noble  form  appears, 
Whose. holy. presence  soon  dispels  my  fears  ; 
And  gently  leaning  on  the  Savior’s  breast, 

My  murder’d  husband  sleeps  beside  the  blest! 

7 


90 


MV  MOUNTAIN  HOME. 


MY  MOUNTAIN  HOME. 

OH  ! give  me  back  my  mountain  home, 
Where  flow’rets  bloom  in  ev’ry  nook  l 
Where  Nature’s  songsters  come  at  morn 
To  sing  beside  the  sparkling  brook  1 

Oh ! give  me  back  my  mountain  home, 

That  stood  beneath  the  chestnut  tree :: 
The  lowly  vale,  the  forest  shade, 

That  overlook’d  the  calm,  blue  sea  ! 

Oh ! give  me  back  my  mountain  home. 

My  gentle  sister,  long  since  gone — 

Who  played  with  me  beside  the  sea, 

Or  on  the  soft  and  verdant  lawn ! 

Oh  ! give  me  back. my  mountain  home, 
Where  crystal  dewdrops  shine  at  morn  ~ 
The  lowing  cattle  on  the  hills 
That  greeted  me  at  early  dawn  ! 


MV  MOUNTAIN  HOME. 


91 


Oh  ! give  me  back  my  mountain  home, 

The  friends  I used  to  love  so  dear ; 

My  snowy  lambs,  that  play’d  all  day, 

And  gamboll’d  round  the  spring  so  clear  ! 

Oh  ! give  me  back  my  mountain  home, 

My  dog,  my  gun,  my  huntsman’s  horn  ; 

The  wild  woods  free,  where  oft  I’ve  track’d 
The  nimble  roe  or  frightened  fawn  ! 

Oh  ! give  me  back  my  mountain  home, 

My  rippling  streams  and  shady  dells  ; 

What  care  I for  your  city  pomp, 

Your  lofty  domes,  your  sounding  bells? 

Oh  ! give  me  back  my  mountain  home, 

My  dear  old  mother  sitting  there — 

Who  frown’d  upon  her  wayward  boy, 

But  always  brush’d  away  his  care! 

More  sacred  now  that  mother’s  tears 
Than  all  the  smiles  that  others  give  ; 

Then  give  me  back  my  mountain  home, 
Where  all  her  noble  virtues  live  ! 


92 


IN  MEMORY.  OF  SAMUEL  TODD. 


IN  MEMORY  OF  SAMUEL  TODD. 

MYSTERIOUS  are  the  ways  of  Heaven, 
Dark  and  fitful  as  the  clouds  of  even ; 
Tho’  bright  the  morning  sun  at  dawn  appears, 
At  dewy  evening  it  may  set  in  tears. 

I knew  an  amiable  and  lovely  youth, 

In  manhood’s  bloom,  he  was  the  soul  of  truth ; 

But  by  consumption’s  insidious  hand 

Was  borne  slow,  but  sure,  on  life’s  fatal  strand. 

Hope’s  sweetest  blossom,  the  mother’s  purest 

j°y. 

This  wither’d  flower  was  her  darling  boy  ; 

But  the  bird  of  Heaven  plum’d  his  wing, 

And  away  from  his  soul  pluck’d  death’s  deep 
sting. 


IN  MEMORY  OF  SAMUEL  TODD. 


93 


Then,  mother,  sigh  not  for  your  absent  son, 

A new  life  with  him  has  just  now  begun  ; 

A beautiful  life  he  enjoys  above, 

Where  angel  seraphs  sing  ever  of  love. 

The  chain  is  broken,  another  link  gone, 

Three  of  your  rosebuds  withered  at  morn  ; 

But  fairer  and  brighter  they  ’ll  bloom  again, 
When  reunited  to  the  broken  chain. 

But  there ’s  a link  on  earth  that  binds  you  here. 
Another  in  Heaven  that  draws  you  there  ; 
When  the  last  link  here  is  broken  on  earth, 

A bright  reunion  will  be  the  new  birth. 


TO  MY  GRAND-DAUGHTER,  ANNIE  R. 


TO  MY  GRAND-DAUGHTER, 
ANNIE  R. 


HEN  first  we  heard  our  Annie’s 


’T  was  sweetest  music  ever  heard  ; 
Softly  it  stole  upon  the  ear, 

Like  vernal  zephyrs  wafted  near. 

Sweet,  lovely  flower,  pearly  gem, 

A jewel  fair  and  beautiful — 

With  dark  brown  locks,  and  azure  eyes 
Which  sparkle  like  the  sunny  skies. 

How  pure  and  good,  and  gentle,  tco, 

Is  our  dearest  little  Annie  ! 

Oh  ! may  she  lift  our  hearts  above 
To  Him  who  gave'  the  flower  of  love  ! 


voice 


Teach  us,  oh,  Lord,  to  rear  the  flower 
Which  thou  hast  given  us  this  day  ; 


TO  MY  GRAND-DAUGHTER,  ANNIE  R. 


95 


To  decorate  a crown  of  love, 

Encircled  with  bright  gems  above  ! 

Oh  ! may  she  by  her  gentle  life, 

Win  many  souls  from  sin’s  dark  paths  ; 
This  bright  bud  to  parents  given, 

May  she,  with  them,  bloom  in  Heaven  ! 


95 


ALONE. 


ALONE. 

WHAT  desolation  hangs  aroundi 
This  little  word,  Alone  ! 

’Tis  night,  mysterious  midnight, 

And  I am  all  alone  ! 

I cannot  sleep,  the  stars  of  night 
Are  shining  above  me  ; 

The  old  clock  upon  the  mantel 
Moves  on,  on,  quietly  ; 

But  all  else  around  is  silent, 

Silent  as  the  lone  grave — 

No  blithesome  sounds  greet  my  ear,. 
No,  not  ev’n  a rippling  wave! 

The  deep  stillness  of  this  lone  hour 
Falls  softly  on  the  soul, 

Like  the  voice  of’  a loving  friend 
On  the  eve  of  the  goal. 

Who  has  not,  in  the  dark,  still  nightr 
Felt  the  last  joy  depart? 


ALONE. 


97 


Who  has  not  sometimes  felt  weary 
And  desolate  in  heart  ? 

Oft,  oft  has  my  poor  heart  been  lone, 

Lone  as  the  dark,  dark  sea ; 

When  hope’s  fairest  flowers  wither’d, 

No  joy  was  left  to  me  ! 

Alone,  alone  ! how  drear  that  sound  ! 

How  deep  a wound  was  made 
When  hope’s  sweetest  heart  blossoms  died, 
And  left  our  home  in  shade  ! 

There’s  one  lone  grave  at  Willow  Brook 
Where  little  Evie  slept — 

One  lone  grave  ’neath  a cedar  tree, 

Where  Evie’s  mother  wept ; 

But  the  grass  grows  wild  o’er  that  mound. 
No  mother  weeps  there  now — 

But  dark  evergreens  mournfully 
Above  the  tombstone  bow. 

At  this  lone  hour  my  thoughts  roam  back 
To  that  sacred  old  place 
Where  my  sister’s  babe  sleeps  sweetly. 
With  her  mil  1,  handsome  face. 


98 


ALONE. 


Shine  on,  shine  on,  ye  stars  of  night, 

On  Evie’s  grave  so  dear  ! 

While  my  thoughts  stray  to  that  dear  spot, 
For  her  I ’ll  shed  a tear. 

Yes,  a tear  I ’ll  shed  for  the  dead, 

A silent  tear  of  love  ; 

And  a sigh  I ’ll  waft,  far  away, 

To  her  bright  home  above  ! 


OUR  FALLEN  BANNER. 


99 


OUR  FALLEN  BANNER. 

[ Written  after  the  fall  of  Richmond , 1865  ] 

OUR  beautiful  banner,  all  faded  and  worn, 
We  press  to  our  bosoms  in  silence  and 
mourn ; 

We  weep  for  our  country,  the  land  of  the  brave, 
The  home  of  our  heroes  who  sleep  in  the  grave  ! 

Alas ! for  our  country,  its  heroes  are  gone. 
And  freemen  no  longer  are  smiling  at  morn  ; 
Proud  Richmond  has  fallen — our  thousands  are 
slain — 

Our  armies  are  scatter’d  all  o’er  the  plain  ! 

Shall  the  banner  of  peace  wave  o’er  us  no 
more  ? 

Shall  our  foes  exult  as  we  welter  in  gore  ? 

Kind  Heaven  forbid — may  our  brave  and  our 
true, 

Once  more  be  free — but  no  struggle  renew! 


IOO 


OUR  FALLEN  BANNER. 


May  the  white  bird  of  peace  again  plume  her 
wing, 

And  soft,  low,  and  sweet,  be  the  notes  she  may 
sing; 

May  the  North  and  the  South  again  brothers  be,. 
United  in  heart,  that  all  nations  may  see ! 

May  the  flag  of  our  country  again  be  unfurl’d. 
The  lov’d  of  all  nations,  the  pride  of  the  world — 
May  its  stars  and  its  stripes  exultingly  wave, 
As  graceful  it  floats  o’er  the  home  of  the  brave  l 


A SPRING  MORNING. 


IOI 


A SPRING  MORNING. 

THE  god  of  day  appears,  magnificent  and 
grand, 

Just  peeping  o’er  the  hills,  his  portals  open  wide, 
To  usher  in  the  morn  ; 

Hill,  valley,  and  mountain  crag  smile  upon  the 
scene ; 

The  rippling  brooks  dance  merrily  down  the  hill 
side, 

And  down  the  sloping  lawn. 

While  deeper  waters  flow  on,  slow  and  silently; 
The  mighty  ocean  rolls  on,  dark  and  repulsive 
In  its  noble  grandeur; 

The  vernal  zephyrs  play  upon  the  mountain’s 
brow ; 

The  blithe  fawn  skips  forth  to  welcome  the 
morning  light, 

And  kiss  the  dewy  verdure. 


102 


A SPRING  MORNING. 


Now  prowling  beasts  retire  slowly  into  their 
dens ; 

The  well-fed  stock  lazily  arise,  and  go  forth 
To  graze  upon  the  hills; 

The  shepherd  leads  his  flock  up  the  rugged 
ascent, 

Or  far  down  into  the  fertile  valleys  below, 

They  seek  the  cooling  rills. 

Glad  nature  rejoices  on  this  lovely,  bright  morn, 
The  industrious  farmer  hails  the  coming  day 
With  unbounded  delight; 

His  charming  wife  looks  out  and  contentedly 
• smiles, 

And  their  happy  offspring  all  dance  and  laugh 
for  joy, 

Their  hearts  are  gay  and  light. 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  GEN.  R.  V.  R. 


103 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  GEN.  R.  V.  R. 

WHERE  sleeps  to-night  that  manly  form  ? 

Where  rests  that  pure  and  spotless 
brow  ? 

Whose  gen’rous  heart  was  ever  warm, 

Though  cold,  and  still,  and  lifeless  now ! 

Alas ! my  lone  heart  tells  too  true 

Where  sleeps  to-night  my  noble  slain  ; 

The  widow’s  tears,  like  falling  dew, 

Keep  green  the  link  in  mem’ry’s  chain ! 

As  sunset  robes  the  Western  skies 
In  brilliant  rays  of  glowing  light, 

Far  o’er  the  hills  in  distance  lies 

The  lovely  scenes  we  view’d  by  night. 

And  oft  at  silent,  evening  hours, 

Those  precious  mem’ries,  sad  but  sweet, 


104  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  GEN.  R.  V.  R. 

Steal  o’er  my  soul  like  dying  flowers, 
Mournful,  but  treasur’d  till  we  meet ! 

Then  let  me  weep,  the  falling  tear 
Will  often  calm  my  soul  at  even  ; 

And  though  my  heart  is  sad  and  drear, 
’T  will  smile  when  we  meet  in  Heaven 

Yes,  in  Heaven  we  ’ll  smile  again, 

And  with  fond  and  sweet  embraces, 
Our  spirits  freed  from  death  and  pain, 
We  ’ll  rest  in  Heavenly  places! 


THE  WITHERED  BOQUET. 


105 


THE  WITHERED  BOQUET. 

SWEET,  innocent  flowers,  ye  bloom  for  a 
day, 

But  to-morrow  your  loveliness  yields  to  decay  ; 
Though  gone  is  thy  beauty  from  earth’s  verdant 
shore, 

Pale,  delicate  plants,  yet  I love  ye  still  more. 

Ye  are  an  emblem  of  hopes  early  blighted, 

Of  wither’d  vows  that  were  faithfully  plighted ; 
Of  sorrows  too  soon  to  the  young  heart  given, 
Which  nothing  can  soothe  but  the  joys  of 
Heaven  ! 

Ye  are  an  emblem  of  the  blest  early  dead, 

Who  to  the  bosom  of  their  Savior  have  fled  ; 
Exempt  from  afflictions  and  troubles  below, 

Transported  to  Heaven  their  spirits  will  go! 

8 


io6 


THE  WITHERED  BOQUET. 


But  these  wither’d  flowers  a secret  may  tell 

Of  a broken  heart,  and  the  last  sad  farewell, 

Of  two  youthful  lovers,  devoted  in  heart, 

But  one  little  sentence  caus’d  them  to  part. 

Long  years  they  had  lov’d,  with  a pure,  constant 
flame, 

But  the  lover  was  jealous — Kate  was  the  same ; 

He  call’d  her  a heartless  coquette  one  day, 

And  she  bade  him  henceforth  to  go  his  own 
way. 

They  parted  in  anger,  but  soon  he  repents, 

But  Kate,  though  deeply  wounded,  never 
relents ; 

Sometimes  she  would  weep  in  her  chamber 
alone, 

But  to  him  her  deep  anguish  never  was  known. 


ELMWOOD. 


I 


ELMWOOD. 

HOW  peaceful  now  thy  silent  shades. 
And  winding  labyrinths  of  art ; 
'How  grand  thy  noble  forest  trees 
That  fondly  twine  around  the  heart ! 
How  solemn  rise  thy  lofty  domes, 
Tow’ring  above  the  quiet  dead — 

Like  silent  spectres  of  the  night, 

Coming  with  slow  and  measur’d  tread  ! 

•Great  city  of  the  dreamless  dead, 

We  come  to  shed  the  rising  tear ; 

To  pause  in  thy  vast  solitudes, 

And  weep  beside  a lonely  bier! 

'No  costly  monuments  we  bring 
To  rear  above  our  cherish’d  dead, 

'But  simple  wildwood  flowers  strew 
Around  their  meek  and  lowly  bed. 


io8 


ELMWOOD. 


No  monumental  urns  we  fill 
With  chaplets  of  exotics  rare, 

But  dewy  buds  at  morn  we  bring,. 

To  mingde  with  the  fragrant  air. 

These,  our  offerings  to  the  dead, 

A silent  language  loudly  speak ; 

No  carved  words  could  e’er  express 
The  heart-throbs  breath’d  so  low  and 
meek. 

How  many  restless  spirits  sleep 
Beneath  a cold,  sepulchral  tomb  ! 

How  many  noble  heroes  slain, 

Now  in  celestial  beauty  bloom! 

Sleep  on,  within  these  sacred  shades, 
While  lightly  o’er  thy  mounds  we  tread 

We  come,  fresh  flowers  here  to  bring 
To  hallow’d  precincts  of  the  dead. 

But  while  we  strew  these  fragile  buds 
Pluck’d  from  terrestrial  bowers, 

Far  down  within  our  heart’s  pure  shrines- 
Still  bloom  amaranthine  flowers. 


ELMWOOD. 


109 


Unfading  as  the  stars  of  night 

That  crowd  the  azure-vaulted  skies, 
The  soul’s  eternal  offerings 
Will  in  glorious  triumph  rise. 


I IO 


jimmie’s  soliloquy.. 


JIMMIE’S  SOLILOQUY. 

HERE  comes  old  Cas,  my  faithful  dog.. 
We’ve  had  many  sports  together; 
But  dear  old  friend,  we  must  part  now. 
While  out  upon  the  green  heather. 

Your  life  is  doom’d;  in  dim  old  age 
You  ’ve  been  guilty  of  a dark  deed  ; 
Now,  poor  fellow,  your  time  has  come — 
No  longer  your  presence  we  need. 

’T  is  hard  for  us  to  part,  old  friend, 

After  so  many  years  of  fun — 

But  the  dearest  friends  have  to  part, 

Often  when  life  has  just  begun. 

’T  is  sad  to  think  no  other  hand 

But  thy  master’s  could  do  the  deed — 
Kill  the  best  friend  I ever  had — 

For  you  have  been  a friend  in  need, 


jimmie’s  soliloquy. 


Sadly  you  gaze  upon  my  face 

While  the  time  is  drawing  quite  near, 
When  you  and  I must  part,  dear  Cas, 
But  for  you  I will  shed  a tear. 

What  shall  I do  when  you  are  dead? 

Who  will  come  in  to  wake  me  at  morn 
Who  will  roam  o’er  the  woods  with  me, 
When  my  poor  old  Cassie  is  gone? 

Relent — relent — I must  relent ! 

No — I ’ve  promis’d  my  mother  dear, 
That  no  thieving  dog  shall  ever  live  ; 

Then  come  not,  oh,  come  not  too  near 
Bang  went  the  gun,  poor  Cas  was  dead, 
Lying  upon  the  ground  so  still ; 

One  moment  I look’d  on  his  corpse, 
Then  sadly  walked  up  the  hill. 

Ah ! those  were  my  happiest  days, 

When  with  dog  and  gun  I did  roam, 
O'er  Windham  hills  in  search  of  game, 
In  the  woods  near  my  rustic  home. 


I I 2 


JIMMIE  S SOLILOQUY. 


There  ’s  a charm  in  ev’ry  gulley, 
Around  that  dear,  sacred  old  place- 
And  poetry  in  ev’ry  nook 

The  hand  of  Time  cannot  erase ! 


TO  MY  TWO  GRAND-CHILDREN. 


I 13 


TO  MY  TWO  GRAND-CHILDREN. 

COME  here,  my  darling  babes,  come 
here, 

And  kiss  grandma  good-night ; 

The  angels  smile  above  you  now, 

Oh,  what  a lovely  sight ! 

My  precious  lambs,  come  nearer — do, 
And  kiss  grandmamma’s  cheek  ; 
Then  lisp  your  evening  prayer,  dears, 
Softly  and  gently  speak. 

God  loves  his  good  little  children, 

And  sweetly  do  they  sleep ; 

Kind  angels  watch  their  slumberings, 
And  o’er  them  vigil  keep. 

These  sweetly-blooming  olive  plants, 
They  twine  around  my  soul — 

And  when  grandmamma ’s  suffering, 
They  come  in  to  console. 


I 14  TO  MY  TWO  GRAND-CHILDREN. 

First,  my  bright-eyed  Annie  comes,. 

Steps  in  with  smiling  grace  ; 

Then  dear  little  Buddie  follows 
With  his  sweet,  loving  face. 

Like  a joyous  ray  of  sunshine 
They  dash  into  my  room, 

And  with  merry  peals  of  laughter 
Dispel  the  misty  gloom. 

When  my  heart  is  bow’d  with  anguish,. 

And  many  cares  annoy, 

These  babes  fill  up  one  vacant  spot 
And  bring  a gleam  of  joy. 

Ah ! whene’er  I see  these  loving  buds 
Dancing  with  joy  and  mirth, 

I feel  within  a silken  cord 

That  binds  my  soul  to  earth  1 


MATTIE  TO  ANNA. 


”5 


MATTIE  TO  ANNA. 

WHENE’ER  I gaze  into  those  eyes 
That  look  on  me  so  mild, 

My  thoughts  stray  back  to  other  years 
When  I was  but  a child. 

When  by  the  little  brook  we  play’d, 
Built  houses  in  the  sand  ; 

Or  up  and  down  the  hills  we  roam’d, 
Those  lovely  hills,  so  grand. 

- Oh  ! Anna,  those  were  happy  days 
. When  you  and  I were  young— 
When  by  the  little  stream  we  sat 
And  soft,  sweet  music  sung ! 

We  were  glad,  merry  children,  then, 
And  dream’d  not  of  the  care 
That  after  years  would  bring  o’er  us, 

As  we  sat  musing  there. 


MATTIE  TO  ANNA. 


I l5 


Lofty  air  castles  rose  in  view, 

Loom’d  up  like  mountains  grand; 

How  beautiful  they  seem’d  to  us 
While  playing  in  the  sand. 

Sometimes  we  wish’d  that  we  were  queens 
In  regal  splendor  clad, 

And  with  our  maids  of  honor  round 
Our  hearts  would  ne’er  be  sad. 

How  little  thought  we  of  the  care 
That  regal  splendors  bring  ! 

How  many  sleepless  nights  of  pain 
From  royal  greatness  spring. 

As  we  roam’d  o’er  the  orchard  wild, 

Or  fancy’s  picture  drew, 

Often  away  from  this  earth  land 
Our  youthful  visions  flew. 

As  we  sat  under  our  rose  tree 
One  bright  autumnal  even, 

Twining  a beautiful  garland, 

Our  thoughts  stray’d  off  to  Heaven. 


MATTIE  TO  ANNA. 


1 1 


On  fancy’s  wing  sweet  angels  came, 
Floating  up  through  the  air, 

And  on  their  bosoms  softly  slept 
Our  little  sisters  fair. 

Oh  ! that  happy  dream  of  childhood, 
It  comes  afresh  to-day, 

When  you  and  I were  young,  Anna, 
With  naught  to  do  but  play  ! 

WTe  may  not  meet  again,  dear  friend, 
The  sands  of  Time  grow  dim ; 

Come,  sit  beside  me  once  again, 

And  sing  that  pretty  hymn  : 

The  hymn  we  used  to  sing,  Anna, 

As  we  sat  by  the  spring — 

Oh  ! “I  want  to  be  an  angel, 

And  with  the  angels  sing!  ” 

y 

The  strains  are  floating  thro’  the  air, 
By  gentle  breezes  borne  ; 

Our  hearts  are  young  again,  Anna, 
But  oh,  how  sadly  torn  ! 


MATTIE  TO  ANNA. 


1 18 


Let  us  no  more  recall  those  days, 
Buried  deep  in  the  past ; 

But  one  more  farewell  kiss,  dear  friend, 
Oh,  it  may  be  our  last! 


THINGS  I LOVE. 


119 


THINGS  I LOVE. 

I LOVE  the  light,  gray  tints  of  dawn 
That  steal  into  my  room, 

The  merry  sun  that  comes  at  morn 
To  drive  away  the  gloom. 

I love  the  silvery  stars  of  night 
That  smile  so  calm  above, 

The  moon  that  sheds  her  mellow  light 
O’er  all  the  worlds  of  love. 

I love  the  rippling  streams  that  flow 
Beneath  the  mountain’s  brow ; 

I love  the  last,  deep  sunset  glow 
That  o’er  the  hill  tops  bow. 

I love  the  beautiful  rainbow 

That  spans  the  worlds  of  light ; 

I love  the  softly  falling  snow 

That  looks  so  pure  and  white. 


I 20 


THINGS  I LOVE. 


I love  the  mighty  ocean  grand, 

Its  surging,  foamy  waves — 

The  pearly  shells  and  sparkling  sand 
Thrown  from  its  hidden  caves. 

I love  the  pure  and  crystal  dews 
That  fall  o’er  earth  at  even  ; 

The  grand,  lofty,  picturesque  views 
That  loom  up  into  Heaven  ! 

I love  the  soft,  fleecy  twilight 

That  calms  the  troubled  heart; 

That  fills  the  soul  with  holy  light 
And  bids  dark  gloom  depart. 

I love,  when  twilight  fades  away, 

And  darkness  veils  the  earth, 

To  meet  my  lambs  at  close  of  day 
Around  our  cheerful  hearth. 

I love  to  shed  the  silent  tear 
Amid  the  dews  of  even, 

To  know  and  feel  that  God  is  near 
And  hears  our  sighs  in  Heaven. 


ITHINGS  I LOVE. 


121 


1 love  at  this  still,  quiet  hour 

To  meet  with  Him  in  prayer — 
To  feel  all  His  wondrous  power, 
.And  cast  on  Him  my  care ! 


9 


122 


THE  CLOUD  RIFTS, 


THE  CLOUD  RIFTS, 

I SAW  a soft  and  fleecy  cloud 
Which  rested  on  the  sea — 
Beautiful  and  grand  it  floated 
Far  out  upon  the  lea. 

One  wing  upon  the  sea  it  stood 
Till  mov’d  by  gentle  rifts, 

Two  flakes  of  pearly  clouds  rose  high 
And  soar’d  above  the  cliffs. 

A change  came  o’er  the  milky  clouds 
That  lay  in  soft  repose  ; 

I stood  and  gaz’d  upon  the  scene, 
While  brighter  beauties  rose. 

Worlds  of  light  and  beauty  seem’d 
To  float  up  in  the  air, 

Then  chang’d  again  from  blue  to  gray,. 
And  some  were  wond’rous  fair. 


THE  CLOUD  RIFTS. 


123 


Beyond  conception,  lofty,  grand, 

In  admiration  lost, 

I stood — amaz’d  to  see  how  high 
Those  wond’rous  clouds  were  toss’d. 

Mountains  of  snow  rose  far  above 
The  avalanche  beneath, 

And  form’d  across  the  rugged  cliffs 
A beautiful  haze  wreath. 

Still  onward,  swift,  they  floated  by, 
Those  worlds  of  fleecy  light, 

Till  other  scenes  obscur’d  the  view 
And  usher’d  in  grim  night. 

Then  calm  and  still  those  worlds  above 
In  darker  shades  appear’d — 

Those  rolling  worlds  of  light  and  shade 
In  mystic  gloom  were  rear’d. 

The  scene  was  chang’d  from  day  to  night, 
The  charm  had  disappear’d  ; 

Deep  stillness  veil’d  the  light  of  day, 
My  goal  of  life  was  near’d. 


124 


ORPHANS. 


ORPHANS. 

LET  ’S  give  one  thought  to  orphans 
lone, 

Who  feel  no  father’s  love  ; 

Who  have  no  gentle  mother  near 
To  draw  their  thoughts  above. 

Their  sorrows  we  have  never  known 
In  our  sweet  home  of  light : 

Not  bless’d  with  fond,  parental  care, 
They  feel  the  smallest  slight. 

Often  too  sensitive  by  far, 

They  feel  the  deepest  pain — 

And  weep  alone  most  bitterly, 

But  seldom  e’er  complain. 

How  careful  we  should  be  with  them, 
And  seek- by  gentle  ways 
To  draw  their  thoughts  away  from  grief, 
And  calm  their  troubled  lays. 


ORPHANS. 


125 


Poor  orphans  lone,  when  cared  for  well, 
And  by  kind  friends  supplied, 

Often  sigh  for  a mother’s  love, 

But  their  deepest  sorrows  hide. 

How  gentle  we  should  be  with  those 
Who  look  to  us  for  aid — 

And  wound  not  once  their  yearning  hearts, 
Or  cast  o’er  them  a shade. 

Ye  mothers  who  have  tender  babes, 
Remember  to  be  kind  ; 

And  ever  may  those  orphan  lambs 
In  you  a mother  find. 

“ Do  unto  them  as  you  would  have 
Others  do  unto  yours  ; ” 

Oh  ! fill  their  lonely  hearts  with  love  ! 

Pure  love  to  Heaven  soars. 

The  little  deeds  of  kindness  done 
Are  stars  within  our  crown — 

They  ’ll  sparkle  brightly  round  our  heads 
When  our  armor  is  laid  down. 


126 


TO  BLANCHE  A. 


TO  BLANCHE  A. 

HOW  beautiful  life  seems  to-day, 

While  youth  and  beauty  bloom — 
How  sweetly  smiles  the  world  around 
To  you,  who  feel  no  gloom  ! 

To  you,  dear  Blanche,  life’s  morn  is  bright; 

A father’s  thoughtful  care 
And  mother’s  tender  love  you  feel, 

Without  their  anxious  fear. 

Blessed  above  thy  sex,  dear  girl, 

With  intellectual  charms — 

Boast  not,  but  humbly  thank  thy  God, 

Who  folds  thee  in  his  arms. 

May  love  and  gentleness  pervade 
Thy  bosom,  soft  and  fair — 

May  no  dark  sorrows  ever  fill 

Thy  heart  with  cumbrous  care. 


TO  BLANCHE  A. 


127 


Oh ! may  life  be  one  bright  sunshine, 
With  no  myth-clouds  to  sere  ; 

And  may  joys  pure  and  holy,  Blanche, 
Thy  spirit  always  cheer! 

May  sorrows  that  to  others  come, 

Thy  heart  but  lightly  shade ; 

May  life’s  bright  dream  be  realized 
When  youth  and  beauty  fade. 

And  when  old  age  shall  crown  thy  head 
With  silver  locks  of  gray, 

May  thy  heart  then  beat  joyously 
And  blithely  as  to-day  ! 


128 


TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  BALL.. 


TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  BALL,. 

Of  Long  Island. 

MANY  thanks  for  one  short  visit. 
To  your  pleasant  Island  home 
Many  thanks  for  gen’rous  kindness 
To  the  strangers  who  had  come ! 

Many  more  for  a wounded  soldier 
Taken  to  your  pleasant  isle  ; 

Weak,  afflicted,  sad  and  lonely, 

He  received  a sister’s  smile. 

Far  away  from  home  and  kindred, 
When  the  storms  of  war  were  o’er. 
In  a Northern  clime  ’mong  strangers. 
He  was  borne  faint  to  your  door. 

Like  a brother,  to  your  bosoms 
He  was  warmly,  kindly  press’d. 
Like  a sister  to  a brother 
When  alone  and  in  distress.. 


TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  BALL. 


I29 


But  no  more  you  ’ll  see  that  soldier 
In  the  weary  lapse  of  time ; 

Silently  he  sleeps  in  Elmwood, 

Where  sad  death-knells  daily  chime. 

God,  who  saw  those  gen’rous  deeds, 
Did  in  Holy  Writ  record, 

Noble  deeds  of  kindness  ever 
Bringf  a sure  and  rich  reward. 

Yes,  kind  friends,  rewards  await  you. 
As  the  Heavenly  port  you  near ; 

And  on  earth  the  widow  lonely 
Will  requite  you  with  a tear. 

But  what  are  tears  to  happy  hearts 
Who  have  never  been  bereft — 

Who  have  never  felt  the  anguish 
Of  a lonely  widow  left? 

They  only  show  a grateful  heart, 

True  and  faithful  to  the  last; 

One  who  though  by  sorrows  bow’d. 
Never  can  forget  the  past. 


130  TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  BALL. 

Then,  dear  friends,  receive  my  off’ring, 
Though  it  comes  clothed  in  tears  ; 

A poor  oblation  it  may  seem, 

Yet,  ’twill  be  the  same  through  years. 


TO  LEILA  M. 


13 


TO  LEILA  M. 

TURN  not  those  lovely  orbs  on  me 

That  sparkle  like  the  summer  sea — 
Time  was  when  I could  bear  their  gaze, 
When  softly  fell  thy  joyous  lays  ; 

But  oh,  dear  girl,  I’m  sad  to  night, 

These  joyous  scenes  give  no  delight — 

I ’m  thinking  of  the  happy  past, 

That  blissful  night,  which  could  not  last. 

Ah  ! better  we  had  never  met, 

Since  you,  dear  girl,  I must  forget ; 

My  love  for  you,  though  fond  and  true, 

I must,  I will,  try  to  undo ! 

The  past,  sweet  past,  could  I forget, 

How  light  would  be  my  spirits  yet ! 
Though  all  my  dreams  of  bliss  have  fled, 
And  all  my  fondest  hopes  are  dead. 


132 


TO  LEILA  M. 


But  since  sad  memories  control 
And  reign  triumphant  o’er  my  soul, 

How  vain  the  struggle  in  my  breast 
To  find  a calm  and  peaceful  rest ! 

Then  farewell,  dear,  we  may  not  meet — 
Those  dimple  cheeks,  so  soft  and  sweet. 
Will  bloom  and  smile  most  joyously, 

But  not  for  me — no,  not  for  me! 

When  on  life’s  dark  and  fitful  sea, 
Should  one  kind  word  e’er  stray  to  me, 
’T  will  shed  a gentle  gleam  of  light 
Like  a lone  star,  that  shines  at  night. 
Oh,  yes,  dear  girl,  one  little  word 
From  you,  but  calmly,  softly  heard. 

Will  echo  sweetly  on  my  soul, 

Like  music ’t  will  my  heart  console. 


THE  SILVER  LINING. 


133 


THE  SILVER  LINING. 

TO  MRS.  E.  B.  CARROLL. 

A WRETCHED  widow  sat,  forlorn — 
Sat  still,  in  mute  despair  ; 

With  three  small  children  weeping  near, 
And  no  kind  father  there. 

The  grave  had  just  closed  over  him, 

And  dark  was  all  around  ; 

The  hand  of  God  could  not  be  seen 
Upon  the  new-made  mound. 

Night,  dark,  mysterious  night,  came  on, 
But  darker  was  the  soul ; 

No  dazzling  ray  of  light  appeared, 

No  husband  to  console. 

Behind  the  scene,  conceal’d  from  view, 
And  sofdy  reclining, 

Upon  a lounge  of  rubies  rare 
Repos’d  the  silver  lining. 


134 


THE  SILVER  LINING. 


The  veil  though  thin,  was  dark,  obscure. 
But  joyously  smiling, 

Behind  the  screen,  in  splendor  mild, 

Still  lay  the  silver  lining. 

The  mourner  sat  with  folded  arms, 

Many  plans  designing — 

She  could  not  through  the  mystic  veil 
Discern  the  silver  lining. 

In  agony  and  grim  despair, 

To  lunacy  inclining, 

She  looks  around,  the  veil  is  drawn 
Above  the  silver  lining  ! 

One  glimpse,  that  dark  despair  is  gone, 
And  calmly  consigning 
Herself,  her  babes  and  all,  to  God, 

She  sees  the  silver  lining. 

Immortal  hope  unfolds  her  wings, 

And  sweetly  reclining 
Above  the  veil,  beyond  the  clouds, 

Now  shines  the  silver  lining  ! 


THE  SILVER  LINING. 


135 


The  weeping  mother  smiles  through  tears. 
Then  meekly  resigning 
To  God  her  husband,  children,  self, 

Now  claims  the  silver  lining. 


36 


CHRISTMAS  BELLS. 


CHRISTMAS  BELLS. 

OH,  those  bright,  merry  Christmas  bells, 
How  they  chime  upon  the  air ! 

How  they  waft  my  thoughts  back  again 
To  a scene  of  dark  despair! 

Many,  many  years  have  passed 
O’er  the  hoary  locks  of  Time, 

Since  those  merry  bells  were  heard 
On  that  Christmas  night-air  chime  ! 
War’s  rude  hand  of  desolation 

Has,  since  then,  its  impress  made ; 
Friend  and  foe  have  slept  together, 

And  side  by  side  have  been  laid ! 

Toss’d  upon  life’s  surging  billows, 

Many  sleep  beneath  the  waves — 

And  the  distant  winds  of  twilight 
Sigh  above  their  lonely  graves. 


CHRISTMAS  BELLS. 


137 


Oh  ! those  merry  Christmas  bells, 

On  the  wintry  breezes  borne, 

Now  recall  one  dreary  Christmas 
When  my  heart  was  sadly  shorn. 
Death’s  sickle  had  swept  o’er  our  home 
And  pluck’d  its  fairest  flower — 
Santa  Claus  had  the  night  before 
Enter’d  our  lonely  bower. 

My  boys’  socks  were  both  well  fill’d, 
Each  had  a plenteous  share — 

But  one  little  stocking,  lonely 
Lay,  with  nothing  in  it  there. 

Oh,  how  my  heart  was  rack’d  and  torn 
At  the  sound  of  merry  bells ! 

Oh,  how  those  weary,  wretch’d  hours 
On  my  care-worn  visage  tells 
Of  anguish  deep ! no  pen  can  paint, 

No  poet  can  e’er  describe — 
Desolation,  desolation, 

Was  all  my  soul  could  imbibe ! 

10 


i3§ 


THE  CHILD  S.  DREAM. 


THE  CHILD’S  DREAM. 

SOFT  breezes  play’d  among  the  trees 
And  dewy  buds  at  morn, 

The  wild  buds  were  caroling 
Out  on  the  blooming  lawn. 

A merry  child,  with  sunny  smiles, 

Sat  down  beside  a stream  ; 

Beneath  the  limpid  waters  flow’d, 

And  sweetly  did  she  dream. 

She  thought  herself  a fairy  queen 
With  playful  nymphs  around. 

And  floating  softly  down  the  tide. 

Her  vessel  ran  aground. 

But  looking  out  in  much  alarm 
She  saw  a handsome  boy, 

Standing  above  the  pearly  stream, 

Whose  heart  was  fill’d  with  joy. 


THE  CHILD  S DREAM. 


139 


A noble  boy  he  prov’d  to  be, 
Watching  the  dreamy  child, 

And  to  her  rescue  gladly  ran 
And  softly  on  her  smil’d. 

But  suddenly  her  vessel  sank 
Beneath  the  rushing  tide, 

And  he,  the  noble,  gallant  boy, 
Sprang  swiftly  to  her  side. 

No  longer  now  a fairy  queen 
Was  the  fair,  dreaming  girl, 

As  down  both  sank  beneath  the  waves 
He  caught  one  floating  curl ; 

Then  rising  high  above  the  tide 
Swam  bravely  to  the  shore, 

And  closely  to  his  bosom  press’d 
The  gentle  Dora  Moore. 

Now  soon  she  was  herself  again, 

And  sitting  on  the  bank, 

The  hero  of  her  day-dreams  comes 
And  down  beside  her  sank. 


140 


THE  CHILD’S  DREAM. 


“Dear  Foster,  oh,  I am  so  glad 
You  came  out  to  the  stream, 

Or  I should  have  been  lost  to-day 
In  my  grand,  fairy  dream  ! 

“ As  I sat  near  the  water’s  edge 
And  in  my  fancy’s  dream, 

Slipp’d  then  my  feet,  plung’d  in  I was 
Beneath  the  flowing  stream. 

“ I knew  no  more,  till  on  the  shore 
I saw  you  by  my  side, 

And  softly  smoothing  out  my  hair, 
While  tenderly  you  sigh’d  ! ” 

“ Dear  Dora,  I have  won  you  now, 

You  are  my  youthful  pride — 

And  when  I ’m  grown  to  manhood,  dear, 
Will  you  not  be  my  bride  ? 

Then  we  will  have  a great  steamboat, 
And  I the  captain  be; 

With  you  by  my  side,  dear  Dora, 

We  ’ll  sail  right  joyously.” 


THE  CHILD’S  DREAM. 


141 

Softly  on  the  boy  she  smil’d, 

Whose  castles  in  the  air 
Soar’d  high  above  the  fleecy  clouds 
That  hung  above  them  there. 

Theirs  was  the  troth  of  innocence, 

Of  confidence  and  love — 

A betrothal  sweet,  recorded 
By  angel  hands  above  ! 


142 


OCTOBER. 


OCTOBER. 

MONTH  of  my  soul ! thou  drawest 
nigh, 

Thy  melancholy  winds  I hear — 

Thy  faded  leaves  and  autumn  flowers 
In  ev’ry  shade  and  hue  appear. 

Month  of  my  soul ! I love  thy  shades — 
I love  the  rich  and  varied  hues 
Of  Nature’s  noble,  forest  trees, 

When  sparkling  in  the  evening  dews. 

Month  of  my  soul ! I welcome  thee, 

A solemn  awe  my  spirit  fills ; 

Thy  rustling  leaves,  low,  soft  and  sweet, 
Sigh  plaintive  on  the  piney  hills. 

Month  of  my  soul  ! I love  thy  winds, 
Those  low,  sad  murmurings,  so  dear ; 
Mournful  on  the  soul  they  fall 

Like  sorrow’s  silent,  pensive  tear. 


OCTOBER. 


143 


Month  of  my  soul ! when  thou  art  here 
I love  to  steal  away  from  care, 

To  contemplate  on  pleasures  past, 

And  talk  with  Him  in  fervent  pray’r. 

Month  of  my  soul ! a joyous  glow 
Inexpressibly  dear,  at  even, 

With  reverential  awe  and  love 

Falls  like  music  sweet  from  Heaven  ! 

Month  of  my  soul ! in  rapture  lost 
I watch  the  brilliant  clouds  above ; 

Their  gorgeous  tints  of  blue  and  red 
Are  emblems  of  eternal  love  ! 

The  gath’ring  in  of  labors  past, 

The  closing  year,  the  waning  hours, 

Are  symbols  of  His  reaping  scythe, 
Gath’ring  in  His  gems  and  flowers. 

Then,  O my  soul ! be  calm  and  still 

While  Nature’s  changing  scenes  appear, 

Those  golden  tints  and  crimson  hues 
With  beauty  crown  the  closing  year. 


144 


TO  A BEREAVED  MOTHER. 


TO  A BEREAVED  MOTHER. 

DARK,  dark  indeed  was  all  around, 
No  light  upon  the  mother  shone  ; 
"H  er  last  rose  was  wither’d,  pluck’d, 

And  bitter  was  her  silent  moan. 

Her  husband  tried  in  vain  to  soothe, 

His  tender  pleadings  were  not  heard ; 
Day  after  day  still  darker  grew, 

She  could  not  feel  one  kindly  word. 

Her  mountain  home  was  veil’d  in  shade, 
No,  no ! too  soft  a word  was  that — 
Shade  means  joyous,  pleasant,  soothing — : 
Her  home  in  midnight  darkness  sat! 

One  little  babe  was  left  to  smile, 

The  image  of  the  sainted  dead ; 

The  mother’s  only  child  was  spar’d, 

And  she  was  taken  in  its  stead. 


TO  A BEREAVED  MOTHER. 


145 


The  grandmother  wept  and  sigh’d 
The  tender  babe  could  not  condole; 

Though  beautiful  that  mountain  home, 
Naught  the  bereft  can  now  console. 

Far  down  beneath  the  mountain’s  brow 
Flow’d  softly  a meand’ring  rill, 

* 

And  close  beside  that  mountain  stream 
Rose  one  lone  mound,  quiet  and  still. 

Grand  spires  above  the  lonely  dead 
Those  giant  mountains  grimly  stood  ; 

The  sighing  mother  often  weeps, 

And  looks  out  on  the  dark,  dense  wood. 

But  while  the  wretch’d  mother  weeps, 
The  blooming  bud  her  time  employs ; 

And  rippling  waters  sadly  peal 
Requiems  to  departed  joys. 

Mother,  look  up  ! above  the  clouds 
Your  jewel  slumbers  sweetly  now  ; 

Our  Father  to  His  bosom  clasps 
His  loving  lambs,  who  meekly  bow. 


45 


TO  A BEREAVED  MOTHER. 


Why  weep  and  mourn,  when  Allie  blooms  ? 

The  morning  light  has  dawn’d  at  last — 
Your  daughter  smiles  triumphantly, 

Her  sorrows  are  forever  past. 

The  rose  is  dead — the  bud  is  left — 

And  sweeter  may  be  the  flower, 
Blooming  around  your  silver  locks, 

And  lighting  your  darken’d  bower. 

’T  is  yours,  the  tender  olive  plant 
So  fondly  to  your  bosom  press’d — 
Given  to  crown  your  bright  old  age 
With  love,  content,  and  tranquil  rest. 


THE  NEW  YEAR’S  GIFT. 


147 


THE  NEW  YEAR’S  GIFT. 

TO  CECELIA. 

A LITTLE  girl  with  blooming  cheeks 
Came  one  Christmas  day, 

To  bring  a pretty  New  Year’s  gift, 

And  with  the  children  play. 

A present  from  Mamma,”  she  said, 

“ A New  Year’s  gift  for  you  ! ” 

And  oh ! how  bright  and  chaste  she 
look’d, 

Fresh  as  the  morning  dew. 

Carefully  I unroll’d  the  gift, 

Displaying  to  our  view, 

A handsome  set  of  silver  spoons, 

Shining  all  bright  and  new. 

Never  shall  I forget  that  gift, 

With  the  sweet,  tiny  note — 

’T  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 
receive,” 

Were  the  kind  words  she  wrote. 


148 


THE  NEW  YEAR  S GIFT. 


The  old  adage,  “A  friend  in  need,” 
Was  my  first  happy  thought; 

Oh  ! how  I thank’d  that  dear,  sweet 
child 

For  the  new  gift  she  brought. 

On  Christmas  eve  a fire  consum’d 
Our  home,  with  much  we  had — 
But  one  sweet  friend  remember’d  us> 
And  made  our  sad  hearts  glad. 

A pressing  invitation  came 

To  make  her  house  our  home, 

Till  fortune  smil’d  propitiously 
We  had  no  need  to  roam. 
Accepting  her  kindly  offer 
W e gladly  did  that  day ; 

She,  like  a dear,  loving  sister, 

Insisted  on  our  stay. 

On  Saturday  morn  the  fire  came 
And  spoil’d  our  Christmas  fun — 
My  husband,  children,  servants,  all 
A happy  day  begun  ; 


THE  NEW  YEAR’S  GIFT. 


149 


’But  suddenly  our  joys  were  quell’d 
By  the  bright,  curling  flames, 

And  children  quick  in  terror  fled, 
Forgetful  of  their  games. 

If  e’er  kind  words  and  loving  hearts 
With  sympathy  could  fill 
The  vacancy  within  our  home, 

And  bid  our  griefs  be  still, 

.Surely  did  these  esteemed  friends, 
And  in  their  joyous  cheer 
Our  losses,  though  not  forgotten, 
Seem’d  not  to  be  so  near. 

But  many  deeper  wounds  since  then 
My  friend  and  I have  had ! 

How  oft  have  silent  tears  been  shed 
And  our  lone  hearts  made  sad  ! 
Too  often  sad  memories  cloud 
Our  sacred  homes  of  love, 

And  rob  us  of  the  beautiful 
Sunshine,  smiling  above. 


THE  NEW  YEAR  S GIFT. 


Dear  friend  and  companion  in  grief, 
Receive  my  heartfelt  thanks ; 

Many  blessings  on  the  fair,  sweet  child. 
With  her  light,  joyous  pranks. 

Alas  ! no  more  a happy  child, 

But  a wife,  noble,  true — 

And  over  her  joyous  pathway 
May  God  sweet  roses  strew. 


I LOVE  TO  DREAM. 


15  I 


I LOVE  TO  DREAM. 

I LOVE  to  dream  ; for  then  the  face  and 
form 

Of  those  I ’ve  loved  are  fresh  and  bright ; 
The  scenes  of  other  years  with  beauty  teem 
In  those  sweet  visions  of  the  night. 

Swift  on  the  wings  of  time  the  mind  flies  back. 
Twenty  years  seem  but  yesterday — 

So  rapid  are  our  grand,  nightly  visions, 

When  the  mind  has  full,  complete  sway. 

I love  to  dream  ; for  then  come  around  me,  | 
In  the  dark,  deep  stillness  of  night, 

Many  dear  and  loved  friends  of  other  days 
Whose  forms  are  beautiful  and  bright. 

I sometimes  see  our  dear,  sacred  old  home, 
The  blooming  flowers  on  the  lawn, 

The  small  church  where  mother  and  I us’d  to  go 
During  the  week,  and  Sabbath  morn. 


152 


I LOVE  TO  DREAM. 


In  dreams,  all  those  lovely  scenes  of  child- 
hood 

Are  fresh  and  vivid  before  me ; 

The  old  log  school-house,  where  first  I learn’d 
To  spell,  read,  and  play  merrily — 

The  river  that  flow’d  near,  and  gentle  brook, 
From  whose  bank  ran  a clear,  cool  spring — 
Those  scenes  forgotten  in  life’s  busy  whirl, 

Are  spectres  on  night’s  rapid  wing. 

In  dreams  I see  my  dear  old  father’s  face, 
Smiling  and  bright  as  in  those  years 
When  it  was  his  fond  delight  to  gather 
Up  his  children  for  Christmas  cheers. 

All  those  beautiful,  beautiful  pictures, 

I sometimes  see  in  my  visions — 

And  then  awake  to  find  it  all  a dream, 

A phantom,  a sad,  sad,  illusion  ! 

And  still  I love  to  dream  ; in  oblivious 
Forgetfulness  I often  seem 
Near  the  loved  ones  who  have  preceded  me — 
Oft  are  they  with  me  in  my  dreams. 


I LOVE  TO  DREAM. 


153 


Yes,  those  sweet,  pleasant  dreams  of  the  night 
Often  bring  them  extremely  near, 

But  ah  ! when  I would  embrace  them,  they 
vanish  ! 

And  sadly  falls  the  silent  tear. 


1 54 


DISTANT  SCENES  BY  TWILIGHT. 


DISTANT  SCENES  BY  TWILIGHT. 


T 


IS  distance  clothes  the  world  in  grandeur 
new, 

And  lends  enchantment  to  the  varied  hue; 

’T  is  distance  sheds  a milder  light  o’er  earth, 
And  gives  ten  thousand  lovely  objects  birth  ; 

’T  is  distance  oft  endears  our  absent  friends, 
And  to  their  charms  a richer  lustre  lends  ; 

’T  is  distance  beautifies  the  closing  day, 
blends  a softer  light  with  every  ray. 

to  far-off  scenes  my  thoughts  I wing, 
valley,  or  the  mountain  spring  ; 
waters  of  the  foaming  deep, 
ting  of  the  Alpine  sheep  ; 
on  the  verdant  hills, 
from  the  flowing  rills, 

’er  the  sloping  green — 
e,  form  a lovely  scene. 


DISTANT  SCENES  BY  TWILIGHT. 


155 


The  lighted  city  at  the  dead  of  night, 

Seen  in  the  distance,  looks  supremely  bright ; 
The  moonlight  falling  on  the  far-off  plains 
In  rapturous  beauty  now  the  soul  enchains. 
Lost  to  the  world,  the  poet  sits  entranced, 

By  ev’ry  scene  his  pleasures  each  enhanced ; 
The  dream  of  childhood  and  his  happy  morn 
Are  far  more  charming  than  at  early  dawn. 

A 

His  gentle  Annie,  always  kind 
Her  fond  caress  and  ever 
These  loving  objects  fill  h 
Seen  in  the  distance  of 
Far  down  the  hill  of  ti 


WHISPERINGS  OF  THE  NIGHT. 


56 


WHISPERINGS  OF  THE  NIGHT. 


ALMIGHTY  Father!  inspire  my  soul 
To  portray  thy  glorious  works  and 
ways — 

some_of  thg  dark  mysteries 
:dden  in  Thy  ocean  caves  ! 

>ms  Thy  wondrous  praise 
rnts  upon  the  mountain 


WHISPERINGS  OK  THE  NIGHT. 


r57 


The  sun,  august  god  of  day,  comes  forth 
To  light  a darken’d  world ! The  stars 
retire, 

The  mountains  blush  with  rosy  light — all 
Animate  Nature  is  grand  with  vocal  praise  ! 
The  picturesque  landscape  in  luxuriant 
Beauty  smiles ; the  fruitful  vintage  yields 
Her  bounteous  supplies!  Fruits,  flowers, 
Vegetation — all  speak  a silent  language, 
And  join  in  praise  to  God,  our  Father  ! 
Shall  we,  recipients  of  His  eternal  love, 
Refuse  Him  our  small  mite  of  gratitude  ? 
Shall  we,  upon  whom  the  beautiful  light 
Of  Science  blooms  — shall  we  grope  in 
darkness, 

When  sun,  moon,  and  stars  pay  homage 
To  His  sovereign  will? 

No  ! let  us  tune  our  lyres  of  praise, 

To  Him  our  vocal  anthems  raise  ; 

Dark  unbelief,  away,  away, 

Hope  brings  to  us  the  light  of  day ! 


WHISPERINGS  OF  THE  NIGHT. 


Hope  wings  her  way  to  worlds  above, 
More  swiftly  than  the  carrier  dove  ; 

Her  whisp’ring  voice  dispels  the  gloom,. 
And  then  for  purer  joys  makes  room  ! 

Hope  gilds  the  soul  with  armor  bright, 
Then  leaps  beyond  the  worlds  of  light ;; 
Unfolds  her  wings,  and  soars  above, 
Then  calmly  meets  the  God  of  love ! 


THE  MORNING  GLORY. 


159 


THE  MORNING  GLORY. 

HE  delicate  flower,  so  pretty  and  small, 


That  blooms  on  our  window,  and  droops 
o’er  the  wall, 

Wafts  my  thoughts  back  to  a bright  evening  in 


When  I stood  near  a friend,  one  calm  afternoon. 

A beautiful  landscape  before  us  appear'd, 
Which  grew  in  loveliness,  that  still  is  endear’d ; 
Bright  visions  of  beauty  were  floating  above, 
Which  fill’d  our  hearts  then  with  rapturous  love. 

One  frail  little  flower  he  pluck’d  from  its  stem, 
Which  I priz’d  more  highly  than  the  richest 
gem — 

For  a silent  language  this  sweet  flower  spoke 
Of  fond  affections,  which  the  moment  awoke. 


June 


i6o 


THE  MORNING  GLORY. 


Thirty-four  years  since  then  have  faded  away, 
But  that  lovely  flower,  I prize  it  to-day, 

For  it  carries  my  thoughts  far  back  in  the  past 
To  those  beautiful  days,  undimm’d  at  the  last. 

This  fragile  flower  sweet  memories  awake 
Of  fond,  treasur’d  words,  the  last  that  he  spake ; 
But  they  fall  on  the  soul,  like  a dream  of  the 
night, 

Those  sweet,  treasur'd  words,  still  vivid  and 
bright. 

The  past,  darkly  shaded,  still  has  charms  for  me, 
A wreck  of  bright  hopes,  yet  I float  on  the  sea  ; 
My  life-boat  is  stranded  on  a lonely  isle, 

But  hope  lifts  me  up,  and  calmly  I smile. 

Oh!  may  I not  hope,  in  my  journey  of  love, 

To  direct  some  poor,  lone  wayfarer  above? 
May  I be  permitted  to  comfort  and  cheer 
Some  desolate  heart,  as  heavenward  I steer  ? 


THINK  OF  ME,  LIZZIE. 


161 


THINK  OF  ME,  LIZZIE. 

WHEN  on  life’s  stern  arena  you  stand, 
With  anxious  care  and  with  labor 
fraught — 

When  in  the  busy  mart  you  may  move, 

I ask  not  then,  for  one  sacred  thought. 

But  when  your  daily  toils  are  over, 

And  out  beneath  the  stars  of  Heaven, 
Perchance  a wandering  thought  should  stray, 
Or  gentle  sigh  to  friends  be  given — 

Oh  ! think  of  me  then  ! 

When  round  the  cheerful  fireside  you  sit, 

And  when  pleasant  thoughts  your  bosom  fill, 
When  dear  ones  around  you  softly  smile, 

And  with  joy  and  peace  your  soul  may  thrill : 
When  you  think  of  your  far  distant  friends, 
The  loving  ones  who  oft  think  of  you, 


i62 


THINK  OF  ME,  LIZZIE. 


And  the  years  that  have  faded  and  gone,. 

With  a thought  of  the  absent  and  true — 

Oh  ! think  of  me  then  f 

Think  of  those  quiet  and  pleasant  days 
When  we  strayed  through  the  forest  wild  ; 
The  soft  hum  of  the  murmuring  brook 
That  delighted  our  hearts  when  a child. 
Memory  carries  me  back  to-night 

To  my  home  in  that  sweet  locust  grove, 

And  one  dear  friend  who  lingered  there  ; 

Should  you  ever  near  those  old  haunts  rove. 
Oh  ! think  of  me  then ! 


THE  NIGHT  WINDS. 


l6j 


THE  NIGHT  WINDS. 

HOW  mournfully  the  night  winds 
sigh 

Upon  the  balustrade  ; 

How  drearily  their  echoings 
Down  in  the  woody  glade ! 

How  lonely  are  their  whisperings 
Around  one  quiet  grave — 

How  desolate  the  evergreens 
That  o’er  those  ashes  wave  f 

The  night  winds  sigh  mournfully 
Around  the  ruined  walls 
Of  our  sacred  old  Willow  Brook, 

And  her  deserted  halls. 

Our  father,  mother,  kindred  gone, 

The  sounds  of  mirth  are  dead  ; 

And  the  merry  crowds  who  gathered  here. 
Where,  oh  ! where  have  they  fled  ? 


THE  NIGHT  WINDS. 


Some  have  fallen  in  far-off  homes, 

And  sleep  in  distant,  graves, 

While  mournfully  above  their  heads 
The  weeping  willow  waves. 

Those  dreary,  howling  winds  to-night 
Their  lonely  echoes  peal, 

And  in  the  gloomy  solitude 
They  sadly  o’er  me  steal. 

These  sighing  winds,  with  dismal  moan 
Through  the  clust’ring  vines, 

Peal  anthems  to  the  dying  rose 
That  round  the  casement  winds. 

Oh ! hush  your  sighs,  ye  winds  of  night, 
That  Nature’s  book  may  close  ; 

The  day  is  gone,  its  labors  past, 

Ye  night  winds,  seek  repose  ! 

Oh,  no  ! oh,  no ! ” the  night  winds  sigh, 

“ Our  revels  have  just  begun  ; 

Sleep  on,  ye  weary  laborers, 

While  we  indulge  in  fun  ! ” 

<_> 


THE  NIGHT  WINDS. 


’T  is  misery,  ’tis  mockery, 

These  doleful  winds  so  drear — 
Sighing  around  the  old  hall  doors, 
To  call  it  midnight  cheer! 


THE  END. 


*^.9/9/01  'hta. 


i 

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